LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON.  N.  J. 

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I.  R.  T. 


THE  WAY  TO  THE 
ETERNAL 

by  , 

CLINTON  W.  COLLIER 


Truth  Is  Immortal 


"On  Earth  Peace,  Good  Will  Toward  Men." 


PUBLISHED  BY 

C.  W.  COLLIER,  NASHVILLE,  TENN. 


COPYRIGHT,  1923,  C.  W.  COLLIER 


DEDICATION 

I  dedicate  these  lines  to  Jesus,  the  Christ, 

To  whom  I  owe  all  that  l  am,  and  have; 

And  to  make  Him  King  of  the  hearts  of  the  race, 
Is  the  aim  I  am  seeking  to  move; 

If  I  can  help  some  distraught  soul, 

Or  lead  some  sinner  to  get  a  release, 

There  will  be  glory  when  we  reach  the  goal, 

For  my  Lord,  who  brought  the  increase. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 


Introduction  .  7 

The  Victorious  Nightmare  .  9 

A  Strange  Courtship  .  33 

The  Triumphant  Concord  .  115 

The  Judgment  .  180 

Conclusion  .  220 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


7 


INTRODUCTION 

Every  man  has  the  right  to  live; 

He  has  the  right  to  serve  and  grow; 

These  rights  are  inalienable  from  God, 

And  all  just  men  desire  it  so. 

Humanity  in  every  walk  of  life, 

Sometimes  gets  away  from  the  truth; 

They  live  for  selfish  ends  and  aims, 

When  service  should  be  the  aim  of  youth. 

The  mind  leads  the  man  on  his  way, 

And  taken  with  the  purpose  of  the  heart, 

Purified  by  the  aim  to  serve  our  day, 

Fail  not  to  give  happiness  on  their  part. 

No  matter  what  service  you  do; 

Whether  farmer,  banker,  or  other  need; 

Give  others  what  ye  would  they  give  you, 

And  your  life  shall  begin  to  gain  speed. 

You  may  be  a  capitalist,  owning  things, 

You  can  see  that  the  power  you  wield 
Gives  honest  service  for  the  income  it  brings, 

And  leaves  no  wounded  on  the  field. 

If  you  are  a  merchant  selling  goods. 

You  can  see  that  your  goods  are  understood; 

If  you  are  a  lawyer  selling  advice, 

You  can  know  that  your  advice  is  good. 

If  there  be  anything  wrong  in  your  life, 

Keep  this  thought  in  your  mind  evermore: 

If  you  are  sick  or  unhappy,  your  children  or  wife, 
“If  thou  doest  not  well,  sin  lieth  at  the  door.” 

As  humans  get  out  of  the  way, 

And  know  not  what  course  to  take, 

We  have  written  these  lines, 

Aiming  to  help  them  correct  their  mistake. 

We  have  divided  it  into  three  parts; 

The  first  is  a  business  man, 


8 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Who  lost  his  way  in  life’s  battle, 

And  was  losing  for  lack  of  a  plan. 

The  second  is  a  young  business  man, 

Who  put  all  his  soul  in  the  fight, 

First  making  sure  of  his  course, 

That  his  battle  was  one  with  the  right; 

With  him  associates  a  woman, 

As  pure  as  God  would  have  her  be, 

Who  bore  her  share  of  the  victory, 

And  wore  the  crown  for  all  to  see. 

We  broadened  their  actions  enough 
To  include  a  few  of  their  deeds, 

Hoping  the  picture  for  an  example, 

Might  answer  some  one’s  needs. 

The  third  is  a  similar  couple, 

With  a  small  difference  of  circumstance, 
With  their  additional  counterparts, 

Associated  in  life’s  song  and  dance. 

They  fight  a  good  fight  and  win, 

And  we  follow  them  across  the  bar, 

Showing  of  punishment  and  reward, 

A  portion  of  things  that  are. 

Our  great  Father,  and  Infinite  Love, 

Will  be  with  us  if  we  try; 

Calling  upon  Him  without  ceasing, 
Determined  the  good  fight  to  win,  or  die; 
Never  doubt  but  that  you  will  win; 

God  Himself  must  go  down  to  lose; 

As  His  promise  is  under  you, 

If  you  doubt  Him,  Him  you  abuse. 

Put  all  you  are,  have,  or  expect  in  God, 

And  cast  off  on  His  love; 

Fearing  not  death,  it  is  not  hard  to  die, 

When  you  die  to  win  a  home  above. 

Fortify  yourself  for  battle! 

There  is  trouble  ahead  for  us  all; 

Unless  you  get  a  good  grip  on  your  Maker, 
You  are  sure  to  catch  a  falL 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


9 


THE  VICTORIOUS  NIGHTMARE. 

I 

Frank  Goodwin  is  a  merchant  prince. 

Full  of  courage,  and  of  wide  renown, 

But  the  cares  and  confusion  of  troublous  times, 
Like  a  mighty  load  are  bearing  him  down. 

The  book-keeper  is  presenting  a  list, 

Of  defaulters  to  proceed  against; 

The  credit  man  is  pressing  an  order 
Of  six  figures  in  dollars,  he  fears  to  resist; 
The  credit  of  the  purchaser  is  excellent. 

Still  it  is  mostly  on  credit  that  he  does  exist; 
The  purchasing  agent  is  striving  to  know 
How  deeply  to  buy  imported  merchandise, 
While  the  tariffs  impending  would  tax 
The  combined  ingenuity  of  the  wise. 

When  the  day  is  finally  ended, 

And  to  sleep  he  seeks  to  retire, 

His  mind  is  full  of  foreboding, 

As  if  his  brain  were  on  fire. 

As  he  drifts  away  into  slumber, 

His  rest  is  haunted  writh  a  load. 

As  a  dilapidated  farm  wagon 
Jolting  over  a  rocky  road. 


II 

He  halts  to  gaze  at  a  spectre, 

Approaching  on  the  crest  of  the  hill; 

He  is  girded  with  a  burden  of  a  flying  wedge; 
As  Mercury  he  flies,  some  mission  to  fulfill. 


10 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Ho!  Sir,  your  name? 

From  whence  and  whither  bent? 

Your  haste  and  manner  would  indicate 
You  are  for  some  service  sent. 

He  halts,  he  gazes, 

He  would  look  me  through! 
Apparently  you  do  not  see  me? 

I  am  standing  in  front  of  you. 

Ill 


My  name  you  need  not, 

Since  with  each  task  assigned, 

A  new  name  is  given, 

To  each  matter  that  I  give  my  mind. 

Time  and  space  were  wedded, 

The  hour  I  began  my  being; 

And  to  assist  in  their  contriving, 

I  am  now  this  way  pursuing. 

The  burden  you  see,  is  not  a  burden  to  me, 
But  reward  for  service  done; 

And  may  be  used  for  any  account, 

To  finish  any  service  I  am  sent  upon. 

IV 

Since  time  has  mellowed  you, 

And  your  name  you  do  not  tell, 

I  will  name  you  for  your  work  here 

The  simple  name  of  MeL 

Perhaps  you  are  bound  for  Gomorrah, 

A  census  of  the  righteous  to  take; 

And  to  compass  the  righting  of  defects, 
Before  worse  trouble  they  make. 

Or  perchance  you  are  meting  justice, 

To  offenders  of  law  divine; 

To  restore  to  the  widow  her  dowry; 

Or  to  malcontents  add  a  fine. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


11 


I  am  overborne  with  misfortune, 

Of  losses  on  teas  and  sox; 

And  restless  employes; 

Carriers  demanding  a  better  box. 

There  is  too  much  tariff  on  some  things; 

Mostly  the  things  that  I  buy; 

The  things  I  sell  it’s  too  low, 

But  everything  else  is  too  high. 

My  corns  and  bunions  are  hurting  me; 

And  my  digestion  is  bad  too; 

I  lie  awake  night  and  worry, 

Trying  to  sort  the  false  from  the  true. 

My  church  gives  me  no  assistance; 

And  when  I  pray  I  get  no  reply; 

And  when  I  go  to  hear  Sunday  sermon, 

All  I  hear  is  get  ready  to  die. 

I  want  to  live  and  be  happy; 

I  do  not  want  to  quit  this  game; 

There  is  a  lot  to  do  if  we  only  run  true, 

And  do  not  incline  too  much  to  fame; 

My  face  is  filling  with  wrinkles; 

My  hair  is  all  coming  out; 

My  teeth  are  gone;  the  days  are  long; 

And  I  am  threatened  with  gout. 

V 

Don’t  wail  to  me  of  your  misfortune; 

That  is  all  written  on  your  face; 

You  have  the  same  disease  the  others  have; 

I  find  it  in  every  race. 

Be  not  so  faithless,  or  sorrowful; 

Look  around  at  others  and  smile; 

Many  a  man  is  buried  in  a  little  hole  face  down. 
Who  thinks  it  as  deep  as  a  mile. 

Life  is  a  thing  of  motion, 

And  the  vortex  of  the  mind  is  the  thing, 

That  enables  individuals  to  know  their  friends, 


12 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


And  empowers  a  ruler  to  be  king. 

The  power  of  universal  induction 
Draws  humanity  pole  to  pole; 

And  the  love  of  reproduction, 

Binds  them  soul  to  soul. 

All  things  lead  to  order, 

If  time  and  place  are  in  accord; 

But  man’s  will  against  the  Infinite, 

Obstructs  His  holy  word. 

I  note  that  you  have  deposited  your  treasure, 
In  a  place  of  such  renown, 

That  when  the  mountebanks  howl  a  measure, 
Your  fortitude  is  soon  thrown  down; 

Know  ye  that  goods  and  chattels, 

Are  only  events  of  the  day, 

And  should  be  put  to  service, 

And  dispel  unrest  away. 

As  for  tariffs  and  tricksters, 

The  weak  fear  the  strong, 

And  strive  in  their  building 
To  fortify  against  imaginary  wrong. 

When  coupled  in  holy  union, 

The  masculine  soul  called  right, 

Has  for  its  fair  sweetheart, 

That  wonderful  power  called  might, 

There  is  no  need  of  truncheon 
To  guard  enemies  from  the  gate, 

As  fear  and  all  discomfort, 

Will  at  the  horizon  wait. 

When  souls  of  humans  selfish. 

With  the  knavish  disease  called  fear. 

Seek  to  wrench  from  the  hand  of  time, 

Some  inconsequential  ware. 

Without  rendering  true  service, 

For  the  ware  they  would  keep  and  use. 

It  is  the  beginning  of  trouble, 

For  all  who  would  thus  abuse. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


13 


To  the  master,  who  from  his  servant, 

Would  command  greater  labor  than  the  hire, 
Shall  receive  instead  of  his  labor, 

The  services  of  a  slacker  acquire. 

He  loses  the  confidence  and  service. 

Of  the  honest  in  his  employ; 

And  they  seek  in  their  fight  for  subsistence, 
Their  enemy  to  destroy. 

In  the  heart  of  the  dishonest  master, 

Is  planted  the  seed  of  mistrust. 

And  as  like  unto  like  begetteth, 

The  wife  and  children  begin  rust; 

Until  evil  on  evil  is  added, 

And  white  becomes  black  as  hell; 

In  the  end  the  result  is  the  same. 

To  all  who  do  falsely  tell. 

The  servant  who  lies  in  bed  later. 

Or  too  long  lingers  over  the  broth, 

Begins  to  be  infected  with  evils  unnumbered, 
By  this  violation  of  nature’s  troth. 

There  are  a  million  ways  to  do  one  thing, 

And  one  way  to  do  all  things  best; 

It  behooves  us  to  choose  the  way  wisely, 

And  with  vigilance  eschew  all  the  rest. 

Honor  to  honor  is  plighted, 

As  much  in  the  man  as  the  maid; 

Business  should  have  the  same  integrity, 

In  dealing  with  any  race  or  shade; 

Your  corns  and  aches  are  but  warnings, 
Yelling  by  nature’s  voice, 

That  you  are  in  bad  with  your  Maker, 

And  should  withdraw  and  mend  your  choice; 
If  your  prayers  are  going  unanswered, 

And  your  church  is  but  a  place  to  sleep, 
Your  conscience  badly  needs  half-soling; 

And  your  heart  should  be  probed  deep. 

Sir,  your  sins  are  appalling! 

When  you  seek  to  carry  them  through, 


14 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Death  is  waiting  with  a  potion, 

To  ease  the  burden  too  heavy  for  you. 

In  seeking  to  lengthen  your  sordid  life, 

You  desire  what  you  know  not  what  you  do; 
But  the  wisdom  of  an  all-wise  Creator, 

Has  prepared  to  make  all  lives  new. 

Come  now,  we’ll  consider  your  matter, 

And  perhaps,  to  keep  the  garment  whole, 

We  will  make  a  few  stitches, 

And  leave  your  decision  in  control. 

When  once  order  is  in  disorder, 

Ends  become  without  end; 

All  prevented  might  be, 

If  you  from  wisdom  decision  send; 

Disaster  follows  disaster, 

As  the  night  the  sun; 

Then  let  wisdom’s  light  shine, 

Before  the  darkness  has  begun. 

VI 

Friend  Mel,  I  perceive  thou  leadest  me, 

Out  of  this  dark  haze; 

So  let  us  to  the  garden, 

And  take  a  glimpse  of  nature’s  ways; 

To  me  these  flowers  are  beautiful; 

And  I  love  those  singing  birds; 

I  love  the  brooklet’s  rippling  note, 

More  than  I  can  say  in  words. 

See  yon  beautiful  maple, 

And  how  it  drinks  the  air; 

It  seems  all  nature  is  full 
Of  children,  wonderfully  fair; 

The  mosses  on  the  brooklet’s  bank. 

How  delicately  they  hang, 

Just  like  they  were  taught  to  do, 

Before  from  the  earth  they  sprang; 

The  glooomy  owl  hiding  in  the  tree, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


15 


With  his  feathers  like  shaggy  mane; 

Goes  out  at  night  to  watch  without  light; 

With  the  sun,  he  hides  in  this  ravine; 

How  beautiful  the  thrush’s  trilling  note, 

As  he  sings  on  the  elder  bush; 

When  I  look  at  him  I  like  no  bird, 

Like  the  beautiful  brown  thrush. 

How  can  I  evermore  in  the  factory, 

Be  so  harsh  with  the  girl  at  her  sewing, 

After  seeing  the  way  nature  does, 

And  watching  the  farmer  do  his  mowing; 

Or,  if  ever  I  speak  again 

To  my  stenographer  words  shorter  than  a  coo, 

I’ll  straight  come  to  the  park  and  see, 

How  the  squirrels  and  chipmunks  do. 

At  the  bank  when  a  customer  comes  seeking  a  loan, 
And  his  credit  is  not  what  it  should  be, 

I’ll  talk  so  fond  in  denying  him, 

He  will  be  glad  he  was  denied  by  me; 

And  when  out  driving  and  a  tire 
Goes  punctured,  down  with  a  slam, 

I’ll  think  of  the  happy  little  beaver, 

When  the  freshet  breaks  out  his  dam; 

He  goes  to  work  to  mend  it, 

As  happy  as  he  can  be  it  seems; 

If  I  could  be  that  happy  always, 

I  would  pray  for  rain  in  my  dreams. 

The  eagle  builds  her  nest  away, 

High  up  on  a  mounain  top, 

Where  nothing  that  molests  will  ever  be, 

When  she  is  raising  her  little  crop; 

The  eagle  is  not  a  regular  fellow, 

With  his  long  claws  and  beak; 

When  I  choose  a  friend  among  the  birds, 

I’ll  choose  one  of  these,  so  weak. 

Tell  me,  dear  Mel,  in  your  scything  way, 

Let  nothing  unworthy  escape  your  blade, 


16 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


What  lias  been  wrong  with  me  so  long, 

That  I  have  spent  my  life  in  the  shade? 
Seeing  not  the  beauties  of  the  lilies, 

Or  smelling  the  fragrance  of  the  rose; 
Loving  not,  affecting  not,  those  treasures, 
Even  as  a  pagan  or  heathen  does. 

VII 

You  were  born  without  mundane  riche9, 

For  which  you  have  thanks  to  pay; 

And  you  lacked  example  and  precept, 

To  hedge  you  in  the  righteous  way; 

You  learned  early  the  edge  of  poverty. 

Is  not  a  thing  to  love  and  embrace, 

And  your  fight  to  get  away  from  it, 

Cost  you  much  in  munificent  grace; 

Because  of  that  reason  developed  lop-sided, 
And  according  to  the  laws  of  the  realm, 
You  describe  an  eccentric  circle, 

As  steered  by  this  lop-sided  helm; 
Environment  was  not  unbending. 

And  often  gave  a  valuable  leave, 

Together  with  induction  from  heaven, 

Drew  you  to  friends  prepared  to  receive. 

So  life’s  impulse,  braced  by  such  helping. 
Sent  you  bounding  through  youth. 

Onward  to  a  maturing  young  man, 

A  ready  and  receptive  votary  to  truth; 
Reason  began  ranging  for  conquest, 

And  taking  stock  of  the  field  in  view, 

You  chose  to  wage  incessant  battle, 

For  possession  of  the  good  things  you  knew. 
In  this  you  were  not  altogether, 

Devoted  to  acquiring  of  pelf; 

But  the  lack  of  a  questioning  conscience, 
Gave  excessive  devotion  to  self. 

Your  wife  rather  envious  of  others, 

Lent  her  force  to  urging  you  on; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


17 


Seeing  only  the  tinsel  and  laces. 

Abetted  by  the  rabble  and  song; 

Into  your  world  came  children, 

With  ego  to  magnify  your  need; 

You  lost  all  sense  of  proportion, 

Giving  only  your  carnal  self  meed. 
Resistance  of  all  kinds  was  raging. 
Governed  by  laws  of  their  kind; 

Your  life  blood  got  badly  entangled. 

You  must  get  out  now  and  re-wind; 

As  the  hack  and  sizzle  of  fortune, 

Has  damaged  and  cut  many  a  thread; 

And  floating  a  derelict  on  life’s  ocean, 
You  are  wounded  among  the  dead. 

Shuck  off  every  un-noble  emotion; 

Enthrall  every  cumbering  care; 

And  stripped  to  the  sinews  for  action, 
Make  firm  resolution  to  share 
All  your  being  with  the  Infinite; 

Leave  not  one  thought  from  His  grill; 
Accepting  all  pleasant  and  unpleasant; 
Waiting  until  He  your  soul  shall  fill; 

Then  you  are  ready  for  victory; 

No  enemy  shall  too  fierce  be  to  fight; 

And  when  your  field  is  well  conquered, 
Enjoy  it  with  the  forces  of  right. 

Your  field  may  be  digging  or  damming; 

Or  spinning,  or  hauling,  or  sea; 

No  matter  what  be  vour  endeavor, 

Right  protected  always  should  be; 

And  when  through  the  ages  impending, 
You  feel  you  have  finished  your  day, 

Sit  down  and  rest  from  your  labor, 

With  your  friends  in  a  conqueror’s  way. 
Life  is  not  long  in  the  winning; 

Indeed,  short,  if  we  count  truth  in; 
Sometimes  fierce  when  the  battle  is  raging, 
But  happiness  forever  when  we  win. 


18 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


This  fight  is  no  place  for  cowards; 

We  must  place  our  whole  soul  on  the  scales; 
When  we’re  weighed  we’ll  not  be  found  wanting; 
It  is  only  the  cheater  who  fails. 

vin 


Mel,  I  believe  your  message, 

And  accept  it  with  all  my  heart, 

But  my  wife  is  not  a  believer, 

And  from  her  I  loathe  to  part. 

IX 

Sir,  truth  is  the  main  thing  to  marry; 

All  others  should  be  ranged  thereabout; 

Just  seek  to  uphold  integrity, 

Your  wife’s  fears  will  soon  put  to  rout. 

If  we  would  be  perfect, 

We  must  live  altogether  in  God; 

Not  by  Him,  or  near  Him, 

But  like  a  pea  in  a  pod. 

One  center  hath  all  this  vast  universe  in  Him; 
Wherever  light  doth  go.  His  spirit  there  doth  dwell; 
And  though  Satan  is  king  below, 

Still  God  is  master  of  hell; 

His  will  is  the  law  of  all  spaces; 

In  all  matter  or  energy  there  is  no  loss; 

He  sets  the  bounds  of  the  universe, 

And  a  Wave  of  light  dare  not  cross; 

Throughout  all  this  vastness, 

The  weight  of  a  single  hair, 

Displaced  from  the  place  where  it  now  is, 

Would  adjust  to  the  new  place  when  there; 

The  millions  of  suns  that  are  pumping, 

Their  light  forever  afar, 

Through  gravitation  all  is  returned, 

To  the  least,  to  the  greatest  star. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


19 


X 

Mel,  will  you  walk  with  me  in  this  prison? 
And  after  that  the  banquet  hall? 

Every  one  knows  that  as  the  world  goes, 
There  may  be  an  eminence  for  a  fall. 

XI 

First  let  me  leave  my  treasure 
With  the  warden  at  the  gate, 

Lest  I  be  struck  with  compassion, 

And  depopulate  this  criminal  state. 

We  will  look  the  prisoners  over 
Authority  has  incarcerated  here, 

And  see  what  measure  of  judgment 
Has  set  this  state  on  fire. 

This  is  a  place  of  sorrow, 

If  justice  has  been  done, 

As  each  must  remain  to  punish, 

Until  their  guilt  is  all  gone. 

Here  is  a  stolid  murderer, 

Who  spilt  his  brother’s  blood. 

That  he  might  gain  possession 
Of  gold,  and  a  few  acres  of  mud; 

Let  him  serve  his  sentence; 

Too  light  is  he  thus  let  down; 

But  justice  tempered  with  mercy, 

Becomes  him  who  wears  a  crown: 

This  man  with  the  crooked  jaw, 

Is  here  for  robbing  the  mail; 

Ah,  let  him  work  out  the  price 
He  would  have  gained  by  his  tale: 

This  man  is  here  it  seems 
For  peddling  vicious  rum; 

Let  him  serve  all  his  time, 

The  world  is  well  rid  of  such  scum: 

This  brother  is  confined  here 
For  killing  a  man  in  his  rage; 

For  one  moment’s  loss  of  temper 


20 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


He  shall  spend  ten  years  in  a  cage; 

Clemency  might  well  be  extended  to  him, 

Since  in  sorrow  he  doth  pine; 

As  no  doubt  the  dead  man  was  largely  to  blame, 
For  the  rage  that  stopped  his  time. 

Look!  Here  is  a  poor  woman 

Put  here  for  stealing  a  loaf  of  bread; 

Shame  on  the  state  and  the  umpire, 

That  should  have  assisted  her  instead; 

This  young  roisterer  is  impounded 
For  violating  a  maiden’s  wealth; 

The  poor  fellow  was  born  unlucky, 

And  is  lacking  in  spiritual  health. 

Though  some  in  these  walls  are  more  punished, 
Than  the  violation  they  made  should  decree; 
And  many  there  be  who  were  let  off, 

With  a  sentence  lighter  than  should  be; 

Still,  vastness  moves  slow  and  clumsily, 

And  justice  as  an  act  of  the  state, 

May  not  always  meet  justice  exactly, 

But  strikes  out  an  average  rate. 

Those  free  who  are  striving  to  disorder 
The  organized  plan  of  the  land, 

Foolishly  do  not  know  that  in  doing  so, 

These  here  at  the  top  would  soon  stand. 

Let  the  mill  of  state  keep  grinding, 

And  the  touch  of  a  hand  of  love, 

Be  placed  so  that  from  wrecked  humanity, 

A  measure  of  salvage  may  resolve. 

There  are  a  few  in  here  who  might  be  out, 

And  no  doubt  will  be,  if  they  learn  grace; 

But  many  who  are  still  outside  unaccused, 

Should  be  manacled  down  in  this  place. 

XII 

We  shall  row  look  over  the  banquet  hall, 

And  since  I  am  visible  to  you  alone, 

We’ll  take  the  measure  of  faces, 


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21 


And  see  what  your  enemies  have  done. 

The  banquet  is  at  its  height, 

And  the  dancers  are  adding  festivities  on; 
The  host  will  think  it  a  success, 

When  the  last  of  the  guests  are  gone. 

See  this  old  grub-staking  villain, 

With  whiskers  half  way  down  his  jaws; 

He  cared  naught  for  those  that  he  helped, 
Except  that  he  might  get  them  in  his  paws; 
Many  the  man  he  has  sent  forth, 

With  hope  rising  high  in  the  east, 

Only  to  find  himself  cast  down  again, 

When  he  learns  his  friend  is  a  beast. 

Fortune  is  fair,  but  fickle, 

And  those  who  lean  on  her  arm. 

Must  take  the  full  measure  of  drubbing, 

Who  needlessly  discount  all  harm. 

With  wine  smuggled  in  here  stealthily, 

They  gorge  themselves  to  the  hilt; 

On  that  belly  full  of  abomination 
Sometimes  great  castles  are  built; 

The  banker  will  promise  his  client, 

With  a  smile  that  almost  rings  true, 

That  he  will  back  him  to  the  limit, 

In  the  things  he  is  about  to  do; 

The  politician  will  look  on  the  widow. 

Of  an  old  colleague  and  say, 

I  will  help  you  get  that  appointment. 

And  forget  her  before  he  is  on  his  wTay; 

The  social  leader  deigns  to  nod 
To  the  climber  with  a  smile. 

And  may  allow  informalities, 

If  the  gold  is  big  enough  pile; 

In  fact,  they  all  seem  friendly; 

The  dogs  and  cats,  and  ewes; 

But  hell  breaks  loose  in  the  morrow. 

When  they’ve  had  time  to  read  the  news. 

See  the  girls,  how  they  dance,  so  loving, 

Full  of  vim  and  expectant  youth; 


22 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Ever  trusting  and  never  doubting. 

All  he  says  is  but  the  truth. 

When  hearts  meet  over  the  decanter. 

The  river  of  life  runs  high, 

And  promises  slip  out  without  measure, 

Only  to  take  root,  bud  and  die. 

Prolific  is  the  word  of  the  monster, 

And  all  things  are  possible  for  the  hour, 

But  oh,  how  sad  it  makes  the  morning, 

When  they  wake,  full  of  unchastened  power. 

The  young  man  waits  for  wealth,  lingering. 
Hoping  against  hope  the  old  man  will  die; 

Ever  fretting  of  his  meagre  allowance, 

At  times  too  melancholy  to  cry. 

It  is  a  sad  state  of  dominion, 

If  this  capitol  rules  the  world, 

As  reason  against  reason  is  lacking, 

And  from  the  pedestal  of  fate  may  be  hurled; 
But  these  are  only  the  idlers; 

Shirkers  on  the  ship  of  state; 

Pray  God  that  better  men  than  these, 

Shall  be  at  the  helm,  at  any  rate. 

This  lecherous  fat-headed  lubber, 

Controls  a  half -million  gold; 

And  were  a  chronicle  of  his  ambition  made, 

It  would  be  too  much  to  behold; 

He  thinks  all  women  are  strumpets, 

And  expects  to  have  the  best  always; 

His  gold  cannot  do  what  he  thinks, 

But  that  rope  of  sand  holds  his  days. 

For  gowns  and  jewelry,  and  finery, 

He  has  holpen  many  foolish  women  down; 

After  they  have  spent  their  living, 

They  jump  off  the  bridge  and  drown. 

The  woman  that  serves  under  him, 

And  holds  her  virtue  still. 

Is  made  of  a  higher  order, 

Than  he  himself  can  fill. 


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23 


XIII 

Anyway,  it  is  all  in  the  making, 

Of  one  of  these  modern  days; 

The  fact  the  sun  sets  in  the  evening, 

Means  nothing  in  the  modernist’s  ways; 

Let  us  not  be  forlorn  and  saddened, 

By  the  sights  we  now  see; 

Scattered  through  the  marts  of  service, 
Men  and  women  are  what  they  should  be. 
Virtue  needs  no  banker; 

Her  reward  she  carries  in  her  hand; 

And  no  man  need  apologize. 

For  the  things  that  by  her  stand. 

When  she  sets  forth  in  the  morning. 

Her  measure  of  toil  to  do, 

There  is  no  sleepy  feeling  holding  her; 

She  has  her  courage  to  see  her  through. 

In  her  eyes  there  is  a  glow  of  sunshine, 

Not  like  that  reflected  by  the  moon; 

She  is  a  woman  made  for  the  daytime, 

And  her  heart  sings  a  merry  tune; 

Her  employer,  a  man  of  sanity. 

Finds  never  a  fault  or  a  fear, 

And  in  his  heart  he  regards  her, 

As  a  creature  of  God,  most  dear; 

He  looks  at  her  with  a  fondness, 

That  you  might  think  more  than  a  friend, 
But  his  own  dear  wife  and  babies, 

Claim  her  for  their  God-send. 

He  lias  a  brother  Charley, 

That  he  loves  as  himself,  as  true; 

He  says  to  him  when  visiting, 

Did  you  see  Mary  looking  at  you? 

In  ways,  without  their  seeming, 

He  makes  brother  to  believe, 

In  Mary’s  worth  and  goodness, 

And  prepares  her  to  receive, 


24 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


His  heart  and  hand  in  wedlock. 

And  from  his  soul  lays  on, 

A  blessing  so  rich  with  gladness, 

That  the  goodness  is  never  gone. 

So  the  state  goes  on; 

Sin  dies  when  his  day  is  done, 

But  love  planted  in  such  a  bosom, 
After  a  thousand  years,  is  just  begun. 

XIV 

Mel,  what  becomes  of  these  loafers, 
Who  play  their  game  and  lose? 

Their  sins  are  like  the  mountains; 

Their  wrongs  they  dare  not  excuse. 

XV 

Hell  is  a  place  for  those  whose  works 
Are  unholy,  or  finished  not  at  all, 

And  were  it  not  for  such  a  place, 

The  universe  would  fall. 

All  who  in  life’s  living, 

Through  carelessness  or  ill. 

Neglect  to  meet  their  promise, 

Or  do  wrong  with  a  will, 

At  the  time  of  judgment, 

To  them  shall  tasks  be  given, 

Which  cease  they  cannot  to  perform, 
Until  they  have  fully  striven; 

This  credit  when  it  is  earned, 

Is  due  to  the  man, 

Who  received  the  wrongs, 

Before  the  judgment  began; 

Thus  treasures  are  laid  up  in  heaven, 
For  those  who  patiently  work, 

Receiving  nothing  of  reward, 

But  never  a  moment  to  shirk. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


25 


For  instance,  my  good  friend  Angle, 
Being  sent  by  the  king, 

Into  a  far  savage  country, 

Some  service  of  value  to  bring; 

He  took  neither  scrip  nor  money, 

Nor  credentials  on  his  way; 

As  the  king  in  that  land  was  denied. 

No  method  of  homage  could  he  pay. 
Setting  to  work  for  king  and  self, 

He  established  himself  in  their  regard, 
And  with  this  credit  he  began, 

Their  enmity  to  retard. 

Time  flies  and  things  move  on; 

No  fitter  could  be  found, 

So  ever  on  the  wing, 

His  prestige  was  gaining  ground; 

Until  at  the  final  time, 

When  all  tribes  could  but  agree, 

He  was  the  fittest  to  rule, 

Ruler  of  all  he  should  be. 

When  his  work  was  complete, 

And  his  lieutenants  were  up-stood, 

He  leaves  all  things  there, 

And  presents  the  king  his  good. 

Now  what  think  ye  a  king 
As  noble  as  he  should  do, 

To  reward  a  servant’s  faith, 

As  our  dear  Angle  did  do? 

This  king  could  not  afford 
A  servant  greater  than  himself  to  be; 

So  he  moves  over, 

And  says  reign  here  with  me. 

But  Angle,  great  and  noble, 

Of  course  could  not  permit, 

Himself  to  be  exalted  to  equal 
His  master  in  every  whit. 


26 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


XVI 

Mel,  what  of  the  man  who  went  to  hell, 
After  he  had  paid  the  last  mite? 

When  the  evil  is  all  made  good, 

Does  he  then  revert  to  the  right? 

XVII 

A  soul  when  lost  at  judgment, 

Does  of  no  credit  possess; 

Since  if  it  had  aught  to  pay, 

The  wrong  than  the  right  would  be  less. 
Hell  is  a  thing  of  condition, 

Rather  than  of  a  place; 

And  the  process  is  one  of  oblivion, 

Rather  than  vengeance  by  grace. 

When  in  the  course  of  the  ages, 

The  last  account  comes  in, 

The  original  living  impulse  returns, 

To  the  ancestors  for  original  sin; 

So  past  is  wedded  to  present, 

And  the  begetter  to  the  begot; 

Thus  through  inverse  ratios  of  time, 

The  sinner  is;  still  he  is  not. 

When  in  life  an  entity, 

Would  change  his  estate, 

No  sooner  resolved  than  granted, 

To  his  new  being  he  doth  mate. 

He  who  would  thus  mend  himself, 

Should  take  into  account. 

That  this  new  estate  requires  good  deeds, 
To  fill  full  the  new  amount. 

It  is  better  to  remain  in  low  quarters, 
Than  on  ambition’s  high  decree, 

To  rise  to  heights  immortal, 

Where  unmaintained,  we  cease  to  be. 

So  Lucifer  would  be  a  ruler, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


27 


And  wished  himself  dominions  wide; 

While  God  took  not  awray  his  ambition. 

In  hell  he  is  forced  to  abide. 

XVIII 

Mel,  how  know  we  there  be  a  God? 

How  can  we  certainly  know  of  his  existence? 
Can  you  tell  me  some  sure  evidence, 

Of  His  personal  persistence? 

XIX 

Oh,  faithless  and  doubting  man, 

Do  you  not  have  eyes  that  see? 

Your  hands,  your  tongue,  the  world  around, 
All  in  all  agree,  proclaim  that  He  be. 

The  creature  is  evidence  of  a  Creator; 

Unless  you  greatly  miss  the  mark, 

You  will  see  the  building  the  life  of  man, 

Is  more  than  accident  in  the  dark. 

Energy  cannot  but  be  in  one  place, 

So  when  it  leaves  the  sun, 

It  is  absorbed  by  some  plant  or  flower; 

One  step  of  its  journey  is  done; 

From  everything  of  beauty, 

The  infinite  eye  is  looking  at  you; 

A  flower,  a  bird,  or  the  eye  of  a  woman; 

Your  own  heart  records  all  that  you  do; 

There  is  being  written  as  a  wave  on  a  coast. 
The  acts  of  the  great  concord; 

When  all  is  summed  up,  each  receives, 

A  punishment,  or  a  reward; 

In  every  honest  heart, 

The  ear  of  God  is  hidden; 

So  when  you  go  a  wooing, 

Speak  nothing  that  is  forbidden. 

Thus  from  point  to  point,  from  act  to  act, 

As  from  the  sun  to  the  flower, 

The  hand  of  God  reaches  out  and  grips  you, 


28 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


And  nothing  can  ever  escape  His  power. 

The  Creator’s  hand  is  seen  so  oft, 

And  so  perfect  is  His  nerve, 

We  think  that  is  the  only  way  it  can  be, 

And  from  such  course  it  cannot  swerve; 

True,  that  is  a  fact  which  He  has  made, 

And  which  would  have  been  otherwise, 

But  that  He  made  it  thus,  and  thus, 

And  in  His  will  the  secret  lies. 

When  He  wants  anything  accomplished  here, 
He  speaks  in  the  terms  of  men, 

Sending  His  word  in  the  form  of  a  man; 

No  matter  how  hard  the  task,  he  will  begin. 
Music  is  the  voice  of  the  spirit; 

Sometimes  God  that  language  speaks, 

And  stirs  nations  with  a  song, 

His  will  on  the  earth  to  wreak. 

This  language  is  spoken  by  the  birds, 

And  who  will  question  the  thought, 

That  they  are  praising  any  other  name, 

Than  that  they  were  by  nature  taught? 

In  heredity  we  know  that  the  law, 

Requires  the  infant  its  parents  to  show; 
Therefore  man’s  soul  in  strict  obedience, 

Is  striving  nature’s  laws  to  know. 

The  Lord  looked  through  the  rainbow’s  arc, 
And  saw  the  world  steeped  in  sin, 

All  putrid  and  rotten, 

Eaten  up  from  within ; 

After  His  vexation, 

Which  wrecked  the  lot  of  man, 

He  resolved  in  His  heart  of  sorrow, 

Not  to  look  that  way  again; 

Before  that  time  the  earth  was  hot, 

And  no  rainbow  had  been  seen, 

A9  the  seas  were  not  all  gathered  then; 

Waters  covered  the  heavens  like  a  screen; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


29 


The  heat  from  below  grew  lacking, 

And  the  waters  above  increased, 

Until  the  clouds  broke  up  with  a  cracking, 
And  all  but  eight  souls  were  deceased. 

Some  seek  God  in  the  earthquake, 

But  that  is  not  where  He  lives; 

He  lives  only  with  the  living; 

Like  the  sun,  He  always  gives; 

He  tasted  death  at  Golgotha, 

And  since  then  He  has  not  been  of  a  mind, 
To  return  to  that  form  of  tasting. 

Of  the  tumultuous  affairs  of  mankind; 

But  when  love’s  full  dispensation, 

Has  been  spent,  and  He  lets  justice  flow, 
There  will  be  a  jubilee  in  heaven, 

But  a  full  measure  of  hell  here  below. 

The  proofs  of  a  mighty  Creator 
Are  so  numerous  on  every  side, 

That  it  is  harder  to  believe  that  He  is  not. 
Daily  are  we  o’erwhelmed  by  the  tide. 

XX 

His  kingdom  shall  live  forever, 

And  let  none  but  bastards  hold  out, 

That  God  is  not  our  father, 

And  we  are  all  sons,  without  doubt. 

The  springtime  of  life  is  awakening; 
Eternity  looms  before  us  now; 

And  we  shall  not  have  to  die  to  taste  it, 
With  a  Father’s  countenance  on  our  brow. 
After  the  night  of  blackness  has  passed, 
And  on  our  reason  the  daylight  appears, 
There  shall  be  such  an  enlightening, 

Life  shall  not  be  measured  in  years; 

There  shall  be  no  need  for  professions; 
Doctors  and  lawyers  will  be  out  of  date, 


30 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


With  the  system  of  conveying  knowledge, 
Inducted  in  this  super-state. 

All  men  will  love  their  neighbors, 

For  lawyers  we’ll  have  no  use; 

All  people  will  obey  the  Creator, 

Then  a  physician  would  be  an  abuse; 

No  need  for  courts  or  bosses; 

We  shall  all  strive  to  do  right; 

And  no  army  or  navy  will  be  needed. 

As  no  one  then  will  want  to  fight. 

No  need  for  schools  or  books, 

As  the  system  of  learning  will  be 
All  added  through  inductive  reason, 

And  no  one  need  ask,  for  they  can  see; 

Not  only  will  this  process  be  perfect, 

But  infinite  knowledge  at  command, 

Will  advise  the  particulars  of  any  subject, 
To  the  lowliest  servant  in  the  land. 

All  questions  answered  with  pleasure, 

And  all  we  have  to  do  for  reply, 

Is  stop  a  moment  and  listen, 

To  the  voice  like  a  whisper  near  by. 

All  things  come  with  the  waiting, 

To  those  who  are  honest  and  true; 

Wait  patiently  then,  and  with  meekness, 

For  time  to  bring  it  to  you; 

And  while  waiting  keep  working, 

Moving  forward  to  meet  your  due; 

Receive  it  with  gladness  not  doubting, 

And  make  yourself  ready  to  deserve, 

As  service  will  be  free  in  all  things, 

And  all  will  be  served  as  they  serve. 

Machines  may  be  had  for  all  uses, 
Performing  any  feat,  except  to  think; 

Build  roads,  bridges,  or  dig  ditches, 

And  may  serve  their  own  fuel  and  drink; 
Transmuting  one  element  to  another, 


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31 


As  in  building  the  base  of  a  road, 

By  burning  a  stone  foundation, 

And  rubber-coating  the  surface  to  suit  the  load. 

No  need  to  haul  material; 

With  their  method  they  use  any  kind, 

As  weaving  the  finest  garments, 

From  such  things  as  might  be  picked  up  by  the  blind. 
Two  things  are  necessary  in  the  process; 

Energy  to  raise  the  matter  to  tune, 

And  a  power  magnetic  to  fix  it, 

And  render  it  from  change  immune. 

There  is  no  danger  of  over-production. 

There  will  be  uses  for  all  they  make; 

But  no  call  will  be  unanswered, 

And  no  such  thing  as  a  mistake. 

XXI 

Mel,  my  heart  is  still  doubting  you; 

Tell  me  something  about  life; 

As  for  instance,  what  are  dreams  made  of, 

And  how  do  those  people  rule  a  wife? 

XXII 

All  things  that  are  true  are  practical. 

Only  we  should  find  their  correct  use; 

And  that  is  the  cause  of  all  trouble, 

Misapplying  something,  with  no  excuse. 

Dreams  we  know  do  happen, 

And  since  you  are  asleep  at  the  time, 

Some  other  force  is  the  moving  process, 

Maintained  for  thinking  sublime; 

Thinking  is  a  process  of  motion, 

Of  energy  in  the  cells  of  the  brain. 

Which  under  the  pressure  of  conscience, 

Makes  arcs  of  the  thought  to  retain; 

Awake  this  process  goes  on, 

Under  the  direction  of  the  will. 

But  asleep  the  action  is  another, 


32 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


As  the  conscience  and  the  will  are  still; 

It  may  be  a  poisonous  ember, 

Picked  up  by  the  blood  down  below; 

Or  it  may  be  some  visiting  spirit. 

With  a  warning  to  let  you  know. 

Dreams  are  not  for  mention, 

As  they  concern  you  alone; 

Though  you  may  weigh  their  message, 

Do  so  without  making  the  dream  known. 

No  wrong  can  come  from  a  visitation, 

To  those  who  love  the  Lord; 

To  others  they  set  up  confusion, 

By  shading  the  portent  of  their  word. 

XXIII 

A  wife  is  not  ruled  in  perfection, 

As  both  are  one  in  the  main; 

What  is  profit  for  the  husband, 

For  the  wife  also  is  gain; 

Seek  not  to  have  dominion, 

Over  her  who  is  as  you, 

And  by  love  you  can  sway  each  other, 

To  any  course  where  love  is  true; 

Your  wife  and  you  should  both, 

Keep  within  the  heavenly  law, 

And  in  measuring  two  sides  of  all  questions, 
You  will  find  it  to  be  a  draw. 

We  might  talk  on  here  through  the  ages, 
About  everything  below  the  pole, 

But  since  you  are  about  waking, 

I  will  hasten  to  further  goal. 

I  will  hitch  my  shield  to  light, 

At  the  end  of  the  night, 

And  speed  my  course  afar; 

To  touch  and  gleam  on  every  beam, 

Of  yon  distant  star. 


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33 


A  STRANGE  COURTSHIP 

I 


I  wish  to  ask  a  question. 

In  all  good  faith  of  my  mind: 

Why  are  there  no  virtuous  men? 

At  least,  no  mention  of  the  kind? 

Of  course  I  suppose  there  are  a  few, 

Though  I  cannot  vouch  a  name. 

But  if  virtue  is  a  thing  to  be  desired, 

WTiy  do  not  men  set  it  up  as  an  aim? 

If  it  be  a  fact  that  virtue  is  good, 

Then  we  are  losing  something  worthwhile, 

And  we  should  bring  the  subject  out, 

And  study  it  seriously,  no  humorous  smile. 

What  I  started  to  tell, 

Is  the  story  of  Will  Charlmain’s  life, 

How  he  broke  all  precedents, 

In  his  attempt  to  win  a  wife; 

Will  had  that  same  trouble; 

He  wondered  why  virtue  is  a  monopoly  of  the  women, 

And  he  had  a  suspicion  too 

They  rated  it  among  fruit  as  a  lemon; 

Now,  I  wonder  if  the  pearl  of  greatest  price 
Has  been  tossed  about  as  a  myth? 

Women  possessing  as  a  necessary  evil, 

While  men  know  little  of  its  pith? 

What  is  it  good  for  anyway? 

Things  of  value  are  not  valued  without  worth; 

Some  things  of  value  give  a  noble  service, 

While  others  produce  a  lot  of  mirth; 

I  understand  a  woman  got  enough, 

To  heal  her  after  twelve  years  diseased, 

By  touching  the  hem  of  a  garment, 

And  the  hem  was  not  altogether  displeased; 

Another  time  it  turned  a  lot  of  water  into  wine; 
Apparently  the  catalyst  that  goes  between, 

It  adjusts  the  desires  of  the  possessor, 


34 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


To  the  outside  world,  like  a  machine. 

Do  you  suppose  it  could  bring  two  people, 

Who  each  desired  the  other  from  afar, 

And  join  them  together  while  yet  strangers, 

Breaking  down  all  resistances  that  bar? 

Will  believed  it  could  do  that, 

And  with  satisfaction  shine  through  the  one  possessed; 
Or  if  virtue  is  held  in  duress, 

The  dissatisfaction  would  show  it  is  stressed. 

But  when  Will  went  wooing, 

He  had  ways  little  known; 

His  affections  came  forth  in  such  volume 
No  woman  would  call  him  her  own. 

II 

At  last  there  was  Helen  Gounode, 

A  lady  of  mighty  scorn, 

Who  would  not  be  won  by  any  man, 

Not  the  rarest  creature  born; 

'Helen  was  a  woman  of  high  spirits; 

Of  worldly  wisdom  well  fraught; 

And  scorned  with  a  devilish  gesture, 

That  every  man  could  be  bought; 

But  like  many  things  we  all  have  seen, 

This  casting  without  a  care, 

Of  unweighed  words  lacking  tenderness, 

Of  friends  makes  one  bare. 

She  grew  into  such  a  fashion, 

That  she  could  not  find  a  mark, 

For  her  barbed  arrows  to  strike 
At  this  masculine  shark; 

Thus  in  desperation, 

She  was  swamped  with  power, 

Of  her  own  creation; 

Her  soul  could  not  rest  an  hour; 

This  thing  in  her  heart  she  had  planted, 

Was  filling  her  life  with  hate, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


35 


And  how  to  get  rid  of  it? 

She  was  shocked  to  think  it  might  be  too  late. 

Without  friends  and  left  alone, 

She  tackled  her  unrest  with  rage, 

And  like  the  conquering  spirit, 

Never  ceased  the  battle  to  wage. 

Since  men  thought  her  a  termigant, 

They  never  gave  her  a  smile, 

And  often  to  keep  from  meeting  her, 

Would  walk  around  a  mile. 

All  her  satire  became  silent, 

And  waging  her  battle  alone, 

She  could  not  for  her  life  hate  men, 

Now  that  they  were  gone. 

Helen  was  made  of  courage, 

But  fortune  had  taken  a  whet, 

And  fitted  her  tongue  with  lashes, 

Where  modesty  should  have  been  met. 

Taking  stock  of  herself, 

Her  womanly  passions  crowding  within, 

She  began  listening  to  the  voice  of  nature; 
Counting  the  wages  and  anguish  of  sin; 

She  put  her  tongue  to  discipline, 

And  in  her  maidenly  way, 

Began  her  own  chastisement. 

Hoping  there  would  come  a  day; 

Some  good  man  might  have  accident, 

And  she  would  catch  him  down; 

Or  perchance  in  the  water, 

She  might  not  let  some  one  drown. 

She  once  was  shrew  at  surface, 

But  deep  down  in  her  heart. 

She  knew  she  was  pure  and  virtuous; 

And  she  pined  for  Cupid’s  dart.  , 

At  times  in  the  park  she  went  moping; 

For  women  friends  she  cared  not; 


J 


36  The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


She  had  probably  purchased  a  spinster  estate, 
And  about  it  she  would  not  hear  a  lot. 

Once  she  went  to  the  theatre, 

Picking  out  a  man  not  a  crook, 

She  sat  close  up  beside  him, 

Observing  with  a  shy  look; 

Wondering  if  affections,  without  cheating, 
From  a  man  and  a  stranger  could  be  had; 
Then  without  further  discerning, 

She  drew  away,  feeling  bad. 

0  hell  of  hells,  I’m  descending, 

And  where  is  the  bottom  of  it  all; 

I  would  rather  be  an  angel  in  heaven, 

Than  a  poor  woman  after  the  fall; 

I  will  be  myself,  a  woman  unashamed; 

I’ll  hold  myself  in  or  burst; 

And  I’ll  wait,  and  wait,  and  wait. 

To  see  whether  a  man  or  death  comes  first; 
While  I  wait  I  will  be  working, 

Preparing  for  the  day, 

When  love  shall  satisfy  the  hunger; 

I  am  not  happy,  but  I  will  be  gay. 

I  have  a  job  at  the  customs, 

And  tomorrow  I  will  begin; 

Today  I  will  sit  in  the  park  awhile, 

And  pray  away  my  original  sin; 

I  will  sit  here  among  the  roses, 

On  this  little  bench  with  no  back, 

And  smile,  and  smile,  and  smile, 

And  try  to  search  out  what  I  lack. 

Ill 

Will  Charlmain  has  come  to  the  city, 

And  here  in  the  park  he  strolls; 

Re-digesting  his  twenty-eight  summers; 
Sometimes  on  the  grass  he  rolls; 

Since  he  could  not  court  one  woman, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


37 


And  none  undertook  to  court  him, 

While  many  would  look  with  longing, 

And  wonder  if  he  would  come  to  them. 

Perhaps  he  is  a  little  conceited, 

And  because  he  is  not  accepted  at  his  worth, 
He  chills  all  those  who  would  befriend  him. 
And  makes  friendship  well  nigh  dearth. 
Ambition  fires  him  to  show  them. 

To  work  he  goes  with  zeal; 

And  though  he  began  business  on  credit, 

His  credit  is  now  as  the  common  weal. 

When  success  his  efforts  attended. 

Many  females  were  ready  to  smile; 

His  conceit  turned  their  smiles  to  hypocrisy, 
Thinking  they  would  money  beguile. 

Down  deep,  Will  is  a  jewel; 

As  honesty  weighs  pure  gold. 

So  heavy  obligations  are  wearing, 

All  the  conceit  from  his  soul. 

He  frequently  stops,  recounting, 

All  the  girls  he  might  have  had, 

Still  he  is  not  sure  he  is  mistaken; 

And  a  horror  he  has  for  the  bad. 

Of  a  fact,  he  does  not  know  women; 

His  acquaintance  ne’er  o’erreach  their  smile, 
And  to  think  of  being  cheated  in  honor, 

To  him  is  an  exasperating  trial. 

Still,  his  instinct  tells  him, 

That  women  are  better  than  men; 

At  any  rate  he  feels  they  should  be, 

Since  nature  requires  it  of  them. 

For  women  of  loose  reputation, 

While  he  loves  them  in  some  part. 

He  could  not  surrender  his  manhood, 

To  indulge  them  heart  to  heart. 

Truth  is  a  mighty  corrector, 


38 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


And  sometimes  with  vengeance  wields  his  rod; 
Since  truth  with  this  man  is  held  highly, 

He  is  fenced  in  and  hedged  with  a  guard; 
How  can  I  if  ever  I  marry, 

And  get  a  woman  good  and  true, 

Say  to  her  that  I  have  gone  gayly, 

And  also  believe  I  am  as  good  as  you; 

If  I  do,  and  I  am  as  good  as  you, 

Then  pity  the  life  I  shall  lead, 

Believing  that  some  other  gull, 

Is  stealing  away  my  feed; 

Since  spirits  of  a  kind  are  attracted, 

I  will  be  what  I  want  her  to  be; 

And  then  if  God  fails  to  lead  me, 

I’ll  disclaim  all  responsibility. 

I  left  the  country  and  its  pure  air, 
Coming  here  a  day  to  breathe  smoke, 

And  in  this  park  I  am  roaming, 

Thinking  only  of  a  vine  for  my  oak; 

I  am  tempted  by  these  city  strumpets, 

With  their  Bohemian  rage  and  gall; 

I  could  spend  the  day  with  them, 

But  conscience  would  surely  let  me  fall. 

I  am  undone,  and  crestfallen, 

In  this  beautiful  city  with  its  charms, 

All  for  the  lack  of  a  female, 

To  hold  close  in  my  arms. 

They  are  here  to  be  had  in  plenty, 

But  none  are  waiting  for  me, 

As  I  demand  all  integrity, 

That  kind — me  a  stranger — holy  gee! 

I  will  sit  here  in  this  bower  of  roses, 

And  rest  my  tired  feet; 

But  my  soul  is  more  tired  than  body, 

And  a  sweetheart  alone  for  it  is  mete. 

The  lady,  oh,  see  the  lady! 

But  she  is  looking  the  other  way; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


39 


Her  hair,  I  am  in  love  already; 

More  beautiful  until  it  turns  gray; 

Just  my  size  and  complexion; 

Such  a  soft  velvet  skin; 

I  could  love  that  girl  forever, 

And  I  am  sure  it  would  be  no  sin; 

She  is  smiling  now;  more  beautiful; 

Such  a  lovely  curve  to  her  lips; 

I’ll  bet  in  her  eyes  I  can  see  heaven; 

Such  excellent  legs  and  hips. 

Too  bad  this  foolish  generation. 

Will  not  let  me  speak  to  her  now; 

I  am  sure  we  could  reach  an  understanding; 

I  wonder  what  she  would  do  if  I  bow? 

She  keeps  smiling,  I  wonder  what  for? 

Some  lover,  perchance; 

Oh  no,  that  could  not  be; 

Any  man  would  be  here  in  a  trance; 

I  am  the  only  man  looking, 

Likely  fate  has  made  my  choice;  s 

I  am  in  a  trance  as  I  should  be, 

If  I  am  her  mate  I  will  rejoice; 

I  believe  it’s  a  fact,  she  is  lonely, 

And  longing  for  some  one,  as  I; 

I  think  I  shall  clasp  her  and  kiss  her, 

And  tell  her  we’ll  never  say  good-bye. 

Oh  resolution,  abet  and  defend  me; 

If  I  fail  in  this  endeavor  and  lose, 

I  shall  die  a  bachelor  and  lonely, 

If  she  with  me  does  not  choose; 

She  looks  at  me,  oh  glory! 

She  smiles  and  I  smile  too; 

She  looks  honest;  she’s  truthful,  a  virgin; 
Heaven  has  blest  me,  what  shall  I  do? 

I’ll  kiss  her  and  apologize  later; 

She  is  too  good  not  to  wait  and  hear; 

And  I  am  sure,  as  I  am  honest,  she  will  listen, 
And  seal  my  bliss  with  her  cheer. 

My  dear,  I  know  God  has  prepared  you, 


40 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


For  me,  and  me  alone; 

(She  resists  not;  she  smiles,  and  I  kiss  her; 

She  slaps  me  in  a  rage;  calls  me  a  villainous  drone.) 

IV 

I’ll  slap  your  face  from  your  head. 

Taking  advantage  of  my  reverie; 

No  gentleman  would  insult  a  lady  in  such  manner; 

I  will  have  you  arrested  for  your  incivility. 

V 

She  went  into  the  ladies’  rest  house, 

And  has  not  returned  till  dark; 

I  hoped  she  would  return  with  an  officer; 

I  should  be  glad  to  pay  for  my  lark; 

I  wall  go  home,  and  back  to  wrork, 

And  forget  that  she  has  lived; 

For  mine  she  may  not  be  proper, 

Still  my  soul  from  my  body  she  has  rived; 

Such  a  shock  of  emotions, 

I  never  thought  a  woman  could  give; 

My  soul  wras  filled  with  elation; 

That  one  kiss  is  something  for  which  to  live; 

Yet  I  must  conquer  ray  passion; 

Exterminate  every  thought  from  my  heart, 

And  give  my  life  to  service, 

Living  only  to  help  others,  and  do  my  part. 

There  is  no  way  to  run  this  world  without  women, 

And  it  wTould  seem  to  be  my  due, 

To  love  one,  have  a  home,  and  support  her, 

As  all  worthy  men  do. 

Still,  I  suppose  if  I  give  all, 

To  my  Creator’s  cause. 

In  caring  for  the  helpless, 

And  mending  other’s  flaws, 

I  shall  have  done  as  much  good, 

And  probably  a  good  deal  more, 

Than  if  I  get  married, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


41 


And  all  resources  in  one  place  pour; 
Like  sewing  to  the  wind  in  winter. 

As  down  to  the  blasts  of  March, 

And  trust  the  wisdom  omniscient, 

To  nurse  it  on  His  hearth. 


VI 


Helen: 

Tomorrow  is  my  day  of  service; 

My  heart  and  brain  are  in  a  whir; 

When  I  would  most  love  to  sit  dreaming, 

I  must  put  a  rule  on  me  and  stir; 

I’ll  put  my  talent  to  usury", 

And  learn  better  to  sing  and  play; 

All  things  for  my  soul’s  playground, 

Preparing  for  the  day; 

Oh,  how  I  abhor  my  rearing, 

And  those  who  brought  me  up; 

Here  I  have  refused  a  banquet. 

And  now  must  dine  a  mere  sup; 

In  the  shadows  and  empty  places, 

My  heart  sounds  like  a  shell; 

Each  sigh  rumbling  and  bumping; 

I  think  I  have  located  hell. 

I  ventured  back  to  the  spot  -where  he  hurt  me; 
Indeed,  did  he  hurt  me  at  all? 

He  was  merely  caressing. 

And  I  knocked  him  for  a  fall; 

He  was  sitting  on  the  spot  where  I  sat, 

His  hands  holding  up  his  face; 

I  had  not  the  up-bringing 
To  apologize  for  my  own  disgrace. 

VII 

The  days  and  weeks  are  flying; 

My  work  so  absorbing  and  full; 

I  have  had  no  time  for  crying, 

But  now  with  more  leisure  I  am  dull; 


42 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


I  now  have  smiles  a  plenty, 

But  oh,  how  they  pale  by  his  side; 

My  heart  will  never  admit  one, 

A  bean  in  a  space  so  wide; 

How  void  my  mind  shows  me,  fighting; 
The  shrew  I  thought  I  put  down, 

Arose  in  a  termigant  way, 

And  proceeded  Cupid  to  crown; 

His  eyes  all  mellowed  with  love, 

Shone  down  through  a  blush  deep  red, 
And  I  like  a  raging  wild  something, 

In  a  frenzy  on  a  prime  lettuce  bed. 

But  how  could  he,  if  he  has  breeding, 
Thrust  himself  into  a  woman’s  life  such, 
As  to  tear  her  soul  from  its  moorings, 
And  then  say  “I  did  nothing  much.” 

He  must  know  now  his  transgression, 
And  return  to  that  spot  to  apologize; 
And  on  each  Sunday  afternoon, 

I  will  go  there  and  await  his  surprise; 

I  know  as  I  wait  with  longing, 

For  the  touch  of  a  lover’s  caress, 

I  am  building  my  house  on  moonshine, 
And  may  never  have  children  to  bless; 
But  faith  comes  a  bracing, 

Like  wind  in  an  empty  sail; 

My  soul  turns  about  and  holds  me 
To  the  one  I  know  will  not  fail; 
Nameless,  I  love  him  the  better; 

I  wonder  what  tied  me  so  fast? 

Is  love’s  union  a  terrible  chemistry, 

That  holds  inseparable  to  the  last? 

VIII 

Will: 

I  wonder  how  it  goes  with  the  woman, 

I  insulted  once  on  a  time? 

My  heart  keeps  urging  her  beauty, 

And  painting  a  picture  sublime; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


43 


I  cannot  permit  it,  however; 

My  will  shall  master  my  life; 

I’ll  place  in  front  of  her  picture, 

Something  ugly,  wretched,  strife. 

As  a  man  of  honor,  and  chivalrous, 

I  should  return  to  beg  pardon; 

She  no  doubt  thinks  I  am  a  villain, 

And  to  bear  it,  perhaps,  is  my  just  burden; 
Where  could  I  find  her? 

For  what  name  should  I  enquire? 

No  street,  no  home,  can  I  look  for  her; 
Like  choosing  one  from  a  million  wire; 

My  heart  loves  her,  I  know  it, 

As  on  the  day  I  thought  I  had  won; 

To  her  I  must  look  like  a  bad  boy, 

Who  throws  a  rock  just  for  fun; 

I  might  go  back  to  that  place, 

Some  Sunday  afternoon  and  wait; 

Like  a  murderer  returns  to  the  scene, 

And  trust  the  balance  to  fate. 

Life  is  full  of  cross-roads. 

Where  we  meet  with  men  and  maids; 

And  like  cards,  the  trumps 
Are  like  the  numerous  trades; 

Who  makes  the  trumps  makes  the  difference. 
In  this  game  of  life; 

While  one  man  plays  for  deception, 

Another  is  playing  for  a  wife. 

In  my  days  I  have  known  those  men, 

Who  thought  it  verily  meed, 

To  use  unsuspecting  maidens, 

Would  invent  any  lie  they  might  need. 

In  business  the  game  goes  on, 

And  it  behooves  us,  every  one, 

To  see  that  the  cards  we  play  with, 

Lie  face  up  to  the  sun. 

There  are  those  who  keep  their  secret, 
Hoping  to  gain  what  others  earn; 

But  honest  men  know  that  game 


44 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Is  too  expensive  for  them  to  learn. 

God  knows  all  secrets, 

And  if  we  live  close  to  Him, 

He  will  tell  us  everything  we  need  know, 

For  the  righteous,  He  has  charge  of  them; 

I  wonder  if  the  girl  I  saw, 

And  kissed  her  at  the  time, 

Can  speak  this  infinite  language? 

And  does  she  with  the  Infinite  dine? 

At  the  store  today  I  met  a  man 
Who  came  to  sell  me  goods; 

I  knew  when  he  tried  to  measure  me, 

He  was  selling  not  nails,  but  hoods; 

When  they  try  to  find  your  weakness, 

With  little  bribes,  or  smutty  jokes, 

Remember  then,  and  forget  not, 

Unless  your  neck  is  made  for  yokes. 

You  need  a  lot  of  defenses 
Against  the  wiles  of  men, 

And  a  successful  man  should  be  ready, 

With  worthy  measures  to  defend. 

The  lion  walks  in  with  his  cigars; 

He  knows  I  need  a  machine; 

Instead  of  showing  its  efficiency, 

On  its  success  he  begins  to  beam; 

How  Bullrush,  and  Smotherson  and  Hookum, 
And  numerous  other  tricks, 

Never  discovered  the  pea  was  not  there, 

Until  in  his  pocket  the  money  he  sticks; 

Men  of  various  and  sundry  makes, 

Honest  and  dishonest,  full  of  preparation; 
They  would  have  you  believe  they  are  there, 
When  they  boast  and  boost  their  reputation. 

The  boys  who  get  to  work  late, 

Or  who  smoke  or  loaf  on  the  job, 

Are  cheaters  the  same  as  the  man, 

Who  plans  by  other  means  to  rob. 


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45 


Those  who  have  a  surplus  of  might, 

Either  of  brain  or  brawn, 

And  have  no  compass  of  right  in  sight, 

Are  laborers  before  the  dawn; 

They  may  be  worthy  of  much  good  work, 

But  when  they  work  in  haste, 

When  the  light  of  brighter  reason  shines, 

They  realize  they  commit  great  waste. 

In  the  day  I  can  work  and  serve  mankind, 

But  when  the  day  is  done, 

I  go  to  bed  and  toss  and  fight, 

A  visage  that  will  not  be  gone; 

It  is  always  a  woman,  though  not  the  same  dress, 
The  face  I  see  is  the  same, 

She’s  teasing  and  pleasing,  coaxing  and  smart. 

But  it  adds  the  more  to  my  shame; 

I  wrestle  and  strive  from  nine  to  twelve. 

And  then  perhaps  go  to  sleep, 

But  never  a  night  without  the  same  fight, 

My  soul  to  keep,  or  not  to  keep. 

0  fair  soul,  if  I  only  knew 
I  could  make  you  better  by  seeking, 

I  would  search  you  out,  the  world  about, 

And  never  cease  my  speaking. 

Suppose  she  is  married,  and  babies? 

Into  her  haven  I  bound; 

I  hurt  her  before,  she  may  expect  more; 

It  might  be  stirring  an  old  wound. 

IX 

Here  comes  old  Scoggins  of  the  plaining  mills; 
Heart  as  big  as  an  ox; 

Honest  and  fair,  reason  a  little  rare, 

But  strong  at  bearing  mocks. 

Hello,  sonny,  you  look  pensive  as  a  flower 
About  to  shed  all  of  its  perfume; 

I  know  something  is  eternally  wrong; 


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Small  tilings  in  you  find  no  room; 

Don’t  think  I  take  liberties  with  you, 

Addressing  the  boss  as  ‘Sonny,’ 

You  know  we  all  love  you,  and  anything  will  do, 

To  make  you  love  us,  so  many. 

That  is  all  right  Scoggins,  I’m  glad  to  be  pals 
With  a  man  as  courageous  as  you; 

I  hope  I  shall  never  meet  worse, 

Or  have  friends  less  true; 

There  are  Knox  and  Baggott  who  fell  out, 

About  some  trivial  something; 

Knox  has  his  little  life  all  his  own, 

And  from  outside  he  wants  nothing; 

He  is  strong  for  his  personality,  not  a  bad  thing, 
But  search  out  his  truth  he  will  not; 

Anything  that  is  his,  any  habit,  any  fault, 

Drinking,  drugs,  it  is  all  right;  change  not  a  dot. 
Baggott  is  just  the  reverse,  though  equally  as  bad; 
He  is  not  sure  he  is  living,  if  you  say  he  is  dead; 
He  drinks,  he  gambles,  all  such  tilings; 

He  will  tell  you  he  knows  they  are  wrong; 

He  should  quit — he  has — 

And  he  knows  he  will  not  all  along. 

Scoggins,  hire  men  for  courage, 

Who  look  you  in  the  eye  and  smile; 

Answer  questions  without  a  flicker  of  countenance; 
Whose  records  show  no  guile. 

After  all,  Scogins,  a  man  is  a  man, 

No  matter  where  you  find  him; 

Many  of  those  with  millions 
Are  cheap  as  dirt,  never  mind  them. 

How  can  a  man  weigh  honor? 

To  what  test  can  you  put  it  to  show, 

That  one  class  is  better  than  another, 

And  their  seed  more  entitled  to  grow? 

Life  is  an  abstruse  proposition, 


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47 


And  how  we  may  propagate  our  souls, 

Is  more  than  a  wise  man’s  question; 

We  must  pay  life’s  gate-keeper  her  tolls. 

Every  man  is  a  vast  composite, 

And  we  all  have  our  cowardly  parts, 

Coupled  no  doubt  with  courage; 

All  arranged  in  orderly  symposium, 

Something  like  a  true  skin,  and  warts; 

The  will  seems  to  be  the  helmsman, 

And  conscience  is  no  doubt  his  mate; 

They  steer  this  ship  of  commotion, 

Through  all  of  life’s  busy  estate. 

The  question  is  how  does  it  happen, 

That  cowardice  gets  to  the  wheel, 

When  reason,  that  peculiar  character, 

Is  supposed  to  know  what  is  best  for  the  weal? 

We  breathe  some  fuel  from  the  air, 

We  eat  and  drink  the  remainder; 

With  this  beginning  of  material, 

Our  life  fits  out  its  container; 

We  have  a  heart,  brains  and  blood  vessels; 

And  a  nervous  system  that  is  a  wonder; 

It  gets  these  all  tied  up  together, 

And  like  as  not  it  will  begin  to  plunder. 

We  are  coupled  to  the  universe  through  light, 

Which  rolls  right  into  the  eye; 

Changes  mounts  something  like  from  a  boat  to  a  plane, 

And  on  to  the  brain  it  will  fly; 

To  get  all  this  process  in  mind, 

Is  a  little  beyond  my  grasp; 

But  I  assume  the  light  wave  reaching  the  nerve, 

Has  completely  filled  its  task; 

This  nerve  has  an  apparatus  on  the  end,  filled  on  the  inside, 
With  a  current  reaching  a  cell  in  the  brain; 

The  light  moves  the  diaphram  of  this  apparatus;  the  nerve 
train, 

Like  a  million  hammers  on  a  cake  of  wax, 

What  we  see,  it  moulds  and  shapes  the  thing; 


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The  same  thing  works  in  the  ear, 

The  nose,  the  hand,  the  tongue; 

Only  the  nerve  is  activated  in  a  different  wny, 

And  recorded  with  another  prong; 

The  nose  and  tongue  use  a  chemical  process; 

The  electron  waves  from  one  element  to  another; 
While  the  ear  and  hand  start  the  motion  process, 
Oh,  well;  by  something,  or  other; 

The  thing  I  am  getting  at  is  this; 

I  have  everything  I  need  to  live; 

Yet  I  am  not  happy,  and  why  it  is, 

I  must  appeal  to  a  woman  to  give. 

Give  what?  she  has  nothing  I  want, 

Only  I  want  her  near  by; 

And  yet  it  seems  what  I  want  to  do, 

Is  give  her  something,  or  try; 

I  might  give  her  diamonds, 

And  jewelry,  and  clothes  of  every  style; 

I  might  give  her  food  and  a  home, 

Yet  if  I  thought  that  was  her  highest  wish, 

I  would  not  a  home  defile. 

I  might  give  her  love,  but  what  is  that? 

She  might  give  me  the  same  in  return; 

And  still  in  our  ignorance  and  benighted  way, 

For  our  excess  we  may  burn; 

What  then?  shall  I  marry  one  of  them? 

If  not  what  shall  I  do? 

Is  there  not  some  way  I  can  do  better  work, 

Than  marry  and  love  like  you? 

You  married,  have  daughters  and  sons; 

You  love  them  no  doubt,  as  you  should; 

I  am  single,  yet  I  am  seeking, 

A  way  by  which  I  can  do  more  good. 

We  know  that  nothing  of  material  or  energy, 
Is  ever  lost  from  the  universe; 

Therefore  my  soul,  if  I  have  one, 

When  in  death  I  immerse, 

Shall  remain  for  good  or  ill; 


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49 


As  it  now  has  the  power  to  do,  and  think; 

It  shall  continue  to  have  will; 

If  I  live  here  and  love  you  all, 

And  help  you  in  every  way  I  can, 

When  I  am  gone  the  love  you  owe, 

You  will  still  owe  the  same  man; 

Therefore  I  can  gather  my  love  from  you, 
And  carry  it  to  heaven  with  me; 

Otherwise  it  is  a  debt  that  cannot  be  paid; 
Then  should  it  permitted  be? 

The  bank,  those  mills,  and  stores; 

The  farms  and  other  things, 

Are  not  mine  to  own; 

I  am  trustee  for  all  beings 
Who  look  to  us  for  service; 

And  though  I  to  some  extent; 

Control  the  destinies  of  all, 

Yet  I  am  here  by  the  powers  that  be; 

And  to  avoid  it  would  mean  to  fall. 

This  reasoning  of  mine  is  but  to  explain, 
That  with  a  woman  I  am  in  love; 

I  know  not  where  she  lives,  or  her  name, 

Or  whether  she  is  below  me,  or  above; 

I  met  her  but  once,  and  by  chance, 

And  I  kissed  her  before  we  spoke; 

And  then  her  rage  was  so  great, 

My  nose  she  nearly  broke; 

I  am  now  all  things  to  all  men, 

As  well  as  to  woman-kind; 

I  know  not  what  I  wish  to  do; 

It  was  a  wise  man  who  said  Cupid  is  blind; 
I  am  like  a  soldier  in  war, 

Unafraid  of  any  duty; 

But  I  would  do  nothing  that  would  lead, 

To  censure  of  my  fair  beauty; 

Death,  if  that  be  the  noble  thing, 

I  would  embrace  like  a  friend; 


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But  since  death  is  a  hazardous  chance, 

I  shall  not  hastily  seek  my  end. 

Any  humiliation  I  could  endure, 

If  my  heart  would  urge  me  on; 

Any  vengeance  I  would  wreak, 

If  it  were  against  the  wrong. 

Scoggins,  I  will  not  ask  you 
To  find  the  answer  to  this  raving; 

Just  go  ahead  and  do  your  work, 

Effecting  every  saving. 

I  will  find  some  way  to  dispose  of  myself, 

If  it  takes  me  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 

And  I  will  get  my  conscience  on  my  side; 

We  two  shall  never  disagree; 

I  had  my  conscience  when  I  kissed  that  girl, 
And  my  reason  was  with  me, 

Though  my  brain  was  in  a  whirl; 

But  the  thing  broke  down  somewhere; 

And  the  fault  was  mine, 

I  could  not  blame  her. 


X 

Will: 

Now  here  comes  mother, 

Dressed  up  like  a  girl  going  to  play; 

These  women  are  great  in  their  freedom. 

But  even  mothers  should  have  their  day. 

Hello,  Sonny,  what  is  your  trouble? 

Your  countenance  looks  clouded  for  a  storm; 

I  have  prayed  all  these  years  so  earnestly, 

That  my  boy  might  not  feel  the  stab  of  wrong; 
Now  let  me  sit  right  here  on  your  knee, 

So  strong  and  able  to  bear. 

And  put  my  cheek  up  against  yours; 

Tell  mother  the  cause  of  your  care; 

Has  sin  brought  on  this  unbalance, 


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51 


Or  some  cheater  got  in  his  work? 

May  be  the  bank  has  been  robbed? 

Perhaps  some  deed  in  the  dark? 

Pshaw;  by  golly,  I  never  thought  of  that, 
But  I’ll  bet  that  is  what  I  did; 

I  will  tell  you  all;  it  has  taken  away  my  appetite, 
And  put  my  sleep  on  the  skid; 

Mother,  is  it  a  sin  to  kiss  a  woman, 

Because  you  do  not  know  her, — in  the  park? 

You  know  I  am  not  much  on  flattery, 

And  take  no  stock  in  deeds  in  the  dark. 

Son,  you  have  sinned,  it  is  true, 

But  not  against  the  laws  of  God; 

Neither  against  man’s  laws  did  you, 

Over  woman’s  laws  you  have  trod;  , 

Woman  you  must  learn,  has  her  dominion, 

Where  man,  unbidden,  may  not  go; 

And  you  have  chosen  a  fair  lady, 

That  you  might  break  her  law. 

You  must  find  her  and  tell  her, 

You  meant  not  to  fling  in  her  face, 

Her  precept  of  authority; 

You  were  only  seeking  her  grace. 

Your  way  would  be  good  if  all  people 
Could  read  in  the  lines  of  the  face, 

The  meaning  of  every  emotion, 

And  keep  them  in  their  proper  place; 

You  must  seek  out  this  woman,  requite  her; 

Your  act  like  a  gong  on  a  bell. 

Has  set  her  whole  being  in  motion, 

And  she’ll  either  have  heaven,  or  hell; 

Heaven,  if  some  one  with  her  music, 

She  can  play  in  a  solitary  ear; 

Hell,  if  no  ear  is  to  be  found, 

Which  in  her  heart  she  holds  dear. 

Womankind  you  should  not  esteem  lightly, 

Or  ■with  small  cause  set  aside; 


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All  men  owe  them  a  great  patrimony, 

And  one  way  to  pay  is  take  a  bride; 

Love  to  a  woman  is  like  the  rain, 

Upon  the  flowers  and  fruits; 

Without  it  they  wither  and  perish, 

Taking  with  them  their  seed  untouched. 

Deny  not  a  woman  her  toll  of  love; 

You  owe  it,  and  honestly  should  pay; 

What  to  one  may  be  a  paltry  thing, 

To  another  is  the  making  of  day. 

It  is  a  small  thing  that  has  its  beginning, 

In  the  heart  of  a  woman’s  emotion; 

But  great  is  the  end  to  which  it  grows, 

Like  the  swells  and  tides  of  the  ocean. 

A  woman’s  heart  and  smiles  should  be  in  tune, 
With  the  infinite  heart  and  plan; 

When  God  wishes  something  done  soon, 

He  smiles  on  a  woman  for  a  man. 

No  husband  from  his  wife  should  hold 
Any  of  her  honest  due; 

But  many  men  from  maids  are  with-holding, 
Today  what  they  should  not,  as  you. 

XII 

Mother,  you  think  only  of  woman, 

And  what  she  would  have  and  be; 

Never  consider  for  a  moment, 

The  cost;  or  the  result  to  see; 

Now  take  these  modern  women, 

With  their  paint  and  powdered  nose, 

What  care  they  for  duty, 

Seeking  only  pleasure  and  clothes? 

For  children  they  are  evading; 

They  love  to  play  in  the  stream, 

But  for  fear  of  pain  and  anguish, 

They  dare  not  do  more  than  dream; 


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53 


Now  for  loving  such  a  woman, 

Why,  she  would  not  carry  the  load; 

Love  requires  a  sound  foundation; 

These  have  the  strength  of  a  toad; 

When  admiration  seeks  for  perching, 

It  looks  for  the  things  to  be  worn; 

As  the  rose  a  bed  of  beautiful  green, 

With  the  stem  covered  with  thorn; 

If  we  want  a  messenger  for  danger, 

We  do  not  choose  a  coward  to  go; 

If  we  want  a  son  from  heaven, 

Should  we  this  duty  on  a  weakling  throw? 

I  tell  you  the  way  of  the  righteous, 

Is  not  through  the  heart  of  a  woman, 

Of  the  modern  make,  who  love  ease, 

And  care  naught  about  the  domain. 

1 

Think  you  they  will  not  seek  honor, 

Theirs  and  others  besides? 

If  their  legal  friends  cannot  be  donor, 

On  some  other  fortune  they  ride; 

They  care  not  what  conscience  says, 

It’s  the  way  the  world  looks  on; 

If  others  will  not  interfere, 

What  they  privately  use,  they  will  publicly  don; 
The  honor  of  woman  in  the  concrete, 

Has  come  to  such  a  control, 

That  it  is  nothing  but  reputation, 

Prevents  half  from  selling  their  soul; 

Look  how  many  of  them  wreck  themselves, 

For  the  sake  of  such  fool  trumpery, 

As  clothes,  and  cars,  and  show; 

When  if  their  hearts  were  honest, 

They  would  work  and  suffer  and  strive, 

A  better  estate  to  grow. 

Take  these  giggling  girls. 

Who  go  roving  in  the  parks, 

Exposed  at  both  extremes; 


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The  subject  of  a  thousand  remarks; 

Of  course  I  do  not  mind  them, 

I  really  enjoy  the  view, 

But  I  guess  they  will  be  sorry  sometime, 
When  they  see  what  their  recklessness  can  do. 

XIII 


Mama: 

Oh,  Sonny,  you  are  pessimistic; 

I  will  hold  you  a  little  tighter; 

And  tell  my  boy  a  few  things  about  life, 
That  will  make  him  a  better  fighter. 
Women  use  paint  and  powder, 

Because  they  are  not  what  they  would  be; 
That  is  a  good  sign,  Sonny, 

Just  wait  on  time  and  you’ll  see; 

What  they  would  be,  they  will  be, 

If  we  let  them  have  a  chance, 

And  show  them  the  way  to  it, 

Their  beauty  to  enhance; 

You  would  not  have  them  less  beautiful, 
Now,  would  you,  my  dear? 

They  like  red  cheeks  and  lips, 

For  the  pale  ones  they  wear; 

They’ll  find  how  to  get  them, 

From  nature  by  and  by, 

And  what  a  woman  will  give  nature  then, 
It  won’t  be  because  she  did  not  try. 

God  is  the  author  of  this  thing, 

And  when  He  plants  a  desire, 

No  matter,  in  the  heart  of  a  woman, 

He  sees  the  fruit  it  will  bear. 

As  for  children,  give  them  a  chance, 
They’ll  give  you  all  you  can  support; 

You’ll  find  it  is  not  all  the  woman’s  fault; 
You  know  men  claim  the  right  to  court. 

It  is  fixed  in  the  heart  of  a  woman, 


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55 


As  to  live,  is  to  love  a  child; 

And  that  is  part  of  the  reason, 

These  barren  ones  are  so  wild. 

Of  course  after  they  have  fallen, 

No  matter  whose  be  the  fault, 

They  are  then  things  of  pity; 

Their  souls  are  stained  and  halt; 

You  should  not  wish  to  love  one, 
Because  of  any  sin  she  is  abetted; 

You  love  her  for  the  place 
God  has  to  her  committed. 

They  carry  no  load  much; 

They  are  not  equal  to  that  work; 

But  the  world  is  equally  afflicted, 

With  men  who  their  duty  shirk. 

The  state  is  the  burden  of  the  betters, 
And  since  they  cannot  carry  it  all. 

We  have  to  get  along  the  best  we  can; 
In  some  way  keep  from  a  fall; 

If  all  men  were  like  my  big  boy, 

I  am  sure  there  would  be  some  speed 
To  this  old  ship  of  state. 

In  her  rush  to  get  ahead. 

You  know  the  world  moves  slowly, 
And  it  has  been  a  long  time, 

Since  reason  began 

Our  march  toward  the  sublime; 

But  dear,  we  are  moving  on, 

And  never  be  discouraged  a  day, 
Because  every  setting  sun, 

Will  find  us  further  on  our  way. 

Many,  many,  a  woman  has  failed, 
Who  otherwise  would  not, 

If  she  were  with  a  male. 

Who  would  help  her  lot; 

So  many  have  their  own  sins, 


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And  their  men’s  as  well  to  carry, 

That  I  am  more  surprised, 

So  many  as  there  are  who  marry. 

The  men  commence  early  to  practice  sin, 
And  think  it  such  an  honor, 

They  brag  about  it  when 
Some  other  fool  would  follow; 

They  expect  a  woman  to  remain  pure, 
While  rubbing  up  against 
Every  contamination  which  is  sure 
Her  character  and  reputation  to  paint; 

Some  of  the  villains  go  about  bragging. 

Of  something  they  have  done; 

As  promising  to  marry  some  maiden, 

Who  believing,  permits  her  life  to  ruin. 

When  her  flower  has  fallen, 

And  her  truth  she  cannot  plight, 

What  is  the  poor  girl  to  do, 

Since  men  decide  what  is  right? 

If  she  tells  the  next  man 
“How  pure  and  true  she  is” 

She  lies  and  knows  it, 

And  her  conscience  begins  to  sizz; 

Suppose  this  man  marries  her, 

And  sticks  to  her  for  life, 

Do  you<not  think  his  children, 

Inherit  the  lie  of  his  wife? 

Maybe  he  is  the  same  as  she; 

Maybe  he  did  the  same; 

And  then  their  children  are  poor, 

No  matter  how  wealthy  their  name; 

Supposing  again  she  tell  the  truth, 

What  does  the  second  man  say? 

Has  he  the  honor  to  put  her  off 
Without  enjoying  his  day? 

Then  while  supposing,  suppose  again, 

That  this  man  loves  her, 

And  after  knowing  the  whole  truth, 


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57 


He  shall  marry  her. 

Do  their  children  suffer  from  her  youth? 
Nay!  of  the  whole  proposition, 

I  would  choose  the  last; 

But  I  should  advise  all  maidens, 

To  wait  till  the  sanctuary  has  passed. 

XIV 


Mother,  you  are  a  woman, 

Which  for  a  man  to  inherit, 

Though  he  has  nothing  else, 

He  is  rich  beyond  all  merit; 

The  world  we  have  here, 

With  its  abomination  full. 

The  good  and  the  bad  are  so  mixed. 

That  with  care  we  must  choose, 

With  the  bad  to  fall,  or  with  the  good  to  rule. 

XV 

Secretary : 

Mr.  Will,  the  bank  says  our  credit  is  up, 

And  the  pay-roll  is  due  to-day; 

What  shall  we  do,  we  owe  quite  a  sum, 

And  our  money  half  enough  the  men  to  pay? 

Mr.  Secretary7  Sterling,  credit  is  nothing, 

That  is,  nothing  per  se; 

And  then  again  credit  is  everything; 

That  is  without  it,  we  could  not  be; 

Just  tell  the  men  we’ll  pay  them  half  this  week, 
As  our  money  has  all  run  out; 

And  hold  up  on  all  new  plans, 

Until  the  bank  learns  we  are  still  about. 

All  our  men  have  faith  in  us; 

In  fact,  they  know  our  mind; 

And  when  you  consider  what  all  that  means. 
We’ve  got  a  lot  of  credit  left  you’ll  find; 

They  know  we  are  working  at  a  profit, 


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And  all  our  deeds  are  true; 

And  they  know  everything  here  is  security 
To  laborers  for  what  they  do. 

XVI 

Will: 

George,  consider  two  men: 

One  with  a  million  gold,  but  lacks  the  faith  of  the  world; 
The  other  hath  nothing, 

But  the  world  believes  in  his  mind  and  every  word; 

The  man  with  the  gold  must  always  pay  in  advance, 

No  matter  what  he  owes; 

The  man  with  the  credit  can  do  what  he  wishes, 

As  all  men  know  how  he  goes; 

He  buys  everything  that  he  needs  to  begin, 

And  pays  with  an  I  0  U; 

He  manufacturers  his  wares  and  sells; 

The  I  0  U  is  past  due; 

His  creditor  knows  that  he  is  in  a  pinch, 

And  trades  his  note  if  he  must, 

To  the  baker  for  bread,  who  passes  it  on; 

All  men  accept  it,  they  know  he  is  just; 

The  goods  go  out,  the  notes  come  in; 

The  difference  is  left  at  the  bank, 

And  may  be  used  for  any  design; 

But  for  all  of  this  he  has  credit  to  thank. 

You  see  from  this  what  a  good  world  it  would  be, 

If  every  man  would  wralk  straight; 

But  lust  and  greed,  and  the  love  of  sin, 

Are  holding  back  the  welfare  of  the  state. 

If  every  man  had  credit,  as  he  should, 

Which  includes  of  course  the  will  to  do  right, 

They  would  take  off  all  the  locks  from  the  banks  and  stores, 
And  let  any  man  take  anything  in  sight; 

They  would  take  what  they  need  and  leave  a  note. 

Explaining  what  they  had  bought; 

And  once  in  a  while  some  fellow  would  check  up, 


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And  replace  everything  needed,  as  he  thought 
These  are  a  few  of  the  transient  things, 

We  could  reap,  if  we  would  all  sew; 

But  truth  is,  the  mind  cannot  conceive, 

How  far  beyond  that  we  would  go; 

Truth  is  the  key  to  everything; 

Whether  of  mind,  matter,  heaven  or  hell; 

If  Truth  took  a  dip  to  the  bottom  of  the  pit, 
The  devil  would  try  to  stop  Him  before  He  fell. 


XVII 


Will: 

George,  why  don’t  you  get  married? 

You  have  everything  you  need  to  start; 

And  there  are  plenty  fair  ladies  around  here. 
Some  of  whom  you  might  find  worth  the  part. 


Boss,  men  and  women, 

Are  not  their  own  masters,  as  they  think; 
We  are  free  to  do  as  we  please, 

But  from  what  some  please,  others  shrink; 

I  make  up  my  mind  about  things, 

But  always  with  a  degree  of  limitation; 

I  might  marry  this  girl,  or  that  one, 

But  back  of  it  I  feel  a  certain  consolation; 
Love  is  the  thing  we  must  have. 

And  •without  that  all  marriage  is  foolish; 

So  in  thinking  on  any  of  them, 

I  consult  love  first,  as  it  is  mulish. 


Why  cannot  I  love  them,  you  ask? 

I  can  love  any  of  them  at  a  price; 

But  the  price  I  must  pay,  or  the  task, 

Is  where  the  cat  loses  the  mice. 

The  first  one  for  instance  is  ambitious, 
And  to  marry  her  would  cost  me  much. 
And  in  arranging  her  pleasure, 

I  should  give  up  my  ambition  as  such; 
The  second  has  no  ambition, 


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But  would  cost  a  lot  of  cash; 

Her  mind  never  goes  above  commonplace, 

And  we  would  mentally  live  on  hash; 

The  third  one  is  too  fickle, 

Her  eyes  are  always  ready  to  agree, 

But  I  would  want  one  to  be  herself, 

And  after  that  agree  with  me; 

This  fourth  one  is  good  and  noble, 

In  fact  everything  I  could  desire, 

Except  that  she  seems  to  be  lazy, 

And  I  would  like  one  to  have  some  fire. 

There  is  no  use  such  thrashing, 

As  we  all  see  them  different  when  they  wish; 
When  one  of  them  takes  a  notion  for  me, 

All  she’ll  need  do  is  make  her  skirt  swish. 

You  know  boss,  we  bank  a  lot  on  proposing, 
But  I  fear  the  truth  is  distraught, 

As  usually  when  one  decides  whom  she  wants, 
We  don’t  get  far  until  we  are  caught. 

They’ll  stab  you  when  you  are  not  looking, 

With  some  little  tweet,  or  a  sniff, 

And  while  you  are  trying  to  comfort  them, 

You  feel  your  heart  go  biff. 

XVIII 

Helen: 

How  the  long  months  are  dragging, 

Since  that  day  when  I  thrust  love  aside; 
Sometimes  my  faith  comes  in  limping, 

But  I  restore  it,  and  constrain  it  to  abide. 

Last  night  I  dreamt  my  mother, 

Came  kneeling  by  the  side  of  my  bed, 

And  with  face  smiling  and  cheerful, 

So  oomforting  and  loving  she  said: 

“Don’t  let  any  down-cast  countenance, 

Deck  your  brow  again  my  dear; 

Your  bold  and  nonchalant  lover, 


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Is  faithful,  and  to  his  heart  you  are  near; 
Be  faithful  to  him  daughter, 

As  he  is  a  prince  among  men, 

And  the  love  in  your  hear  magnetic, 

Will  tack  his  sails  to  you  again.” 

My  mirror  shows  me  a  woman. 

Twenty-six  summers  have  come  and  gone; 

I  have  prepared  the  finest  banquet, 

And  my  guest,  oh,  how  I  wish  he  wTould  come. 
Most  women  make  that  color  with  cosmetics, 
But  blood  and  the  breeze  have  made  mine; 
My  eyes  are  sharp,  but  not  hostile, 

And  the  fulness  has  come  by  time. 

Oh,  how  I  have  fought  for  beauty; 

Those  curls  need  not  an  iron; 

All  for  a  man,  and  one  kiss. 

And  precept  against  it  would  warn; 

Men  friends  I  now  have  in  plenty; 

Are  all  like  soft  things,  and  wreak; 

And  the  things  they  say  don’t  touch  me, 
Though  they  seem  fond  when  they  speak; 

I  feel  that  the  man  of  my  emotions, 

At  the  time  of  our  contact, 

Bent  the  bow  of  my  love  and  hooked  it, 

And  there  is  none  strong  enough  to  unlatch. 

I  go  to  the  place  every  Sunday, 

To  watch  for  the  one  that  I  love; 

At  the  hour  of  our  encounter, 

My  heart  begins  to  shove. 

Oh!  What  shall  I  do  when  he  does  come? 
How  can  I  ever  stand  or  move? 

With  my  blood  all  rushing  faceward; 

And  my  heart  flooded  with  love. 

I  have  been  saying  my  prayers  in  bed, 
But  tonight  I’ll  get  down  on  the  floor; 


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Perhaps  in  humility,  God  will  hear, 

And  grant  the  petition  I  seek  evermore; 

“Oh,  Lord,  and  Father  of  mankind, 

On  the  bosom  of  whose  infinite  love, 

All  your  creatures  are  born  with  their  cares, 

Please  bend  your  ear  and  my  ache  remove; 

Spirits  wearing  love’s  crown; 

Dear  Uncle  on  whose  back  so  oft  I  rode, 

Consider  my  terrible  estate  cast  down, 

And  help  me,  and  lighten  my  load.” 

I  know  that  in  heaven  where  joy  is  complete, 
There  is  solace  for  a  soul  like  me, 

And  I  shall  without  ceasing  keep  bombarding  the  gate. 
With  petitions  for  help,  and  succored  be. 

Methinks  I  should  love  to  live. 

Where  God  and  the  good  do  dwell, 

And  hear  the  wondrous  music  of  the  sphere, 

And  hear  all  the  ages  join  to  tell, 

How  from  all  lands  of  chaos  they  came  here. 

I  seem  to  drift  away  as  I  contemplate, 

All  the  beauties  that  live  in  the  world  to  be; 

And  as  I  pass  by  the  wonders  of  the  land, 

I  can  see  a  flowered  mansion  for  me. 

Mansions  in  this  land  are  not  built  of  stone, 

But  of  the  things  we  have  loved  and  wanted  long; 
Everything  thought  dear  we  have  near, 

While  nothing  is  afar,  except  wrong. 

Since  souls  are  immortal  every  one  will  have, 

All  the  room  they  want,  great  or  small; 

And  every  one  equipped  with  such  joy-bringing  gifts, 
That  all  things  we  need  come  at  our  call. 

The  spirit  of  holiness,  so  great  and  wide, 

Is  something  like  our  system  of  phone, 

Only  all  our  connections  are  instantly  made, 

And  then  instantly  we  finish  and  are  gone. 


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If  you  would  travel,  there  is  some  such  a  plan, 

As  a  letter  of  credit  at  the  bank; 

We  put  ourselves  in  for  what  we  are  worth  here, 

And  immediately  cash  out  over  there. 

God  weighs  souls  in  the  terms  of  light. 

And  gives  them  their  candle  power, 

So  they  may  shine  as  they  please  at  all  times, 

And  live  in  darkness  not  an  hour. 

If  we  would  have  music,  it  shines  from  our  light, 
And  all  we  have  to  do  is  hear; 

But  if  you  grow  tired  of  going  so  nice, 

Then  let  your  light  strike  you  with  fear. 

There  is  room  in  heaven  for  all  you  will, 

And  means  to  make  it  come  true; 

We  all  lack  the  desire  for  ill, 

And  have  means  in  ourselves,  ill  to  undo. 

If  we  desire  to  the  earth  to  return  again, 

We  climb  to  a  distant  height, 

And  from  where  the  resistance  of  our  aim  is  shown, 

We  cast  off  and  take  our  flight; 

When  reaching  the  place  of  our  journey’s  end, 

We  compass  the  thing  we  are  about, 

And  since  we  brought  the  power  to  return, 

We  ascend  with  a  merry  shout. 

If  we  would  have  food,  we  have  it  with  the  wishing 
As  every  one’s  wisher  is  a  thing. 

That  turns  the  desire  into  what  we  want, 

And  an  instant  is  all  the  time  a  doing. 

The  beauties  of  heaven  are  according. 

To  the  beauty  you  have  in  your  heart; 

Love  is  always  of  something  building, 

Of  happiness,  or  beautiful  consort. 

No  heat,  no  cold,  in  heaven, 

As  those  are  things  of  the  flesh; 

As  heat  is  a  thing  of  action, 

The  action  of  each  soul  is  en  mesh. 

Like  water  is  to  a  pipe, 


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And  electricity  is  to  a  line. 

So  is  passion  and  thought  related, 

To  the  soul  of  the  divine; 

The  will  supplies  the  pressure, 

From  a  boundless  cosmic  source, 

And  the  desire  of  the  blessed  to  do  good, 

Leads  ever  to  action,  without  remorse; 

With  the  saints  that  roam  the  heavens, 

In  space  boundless  wide, 

Not  a  thought  of  precipitate  action, 

It  is  impossible  thus  to  decide; 

The  spirits  of  the  just  are  alert, 

To  do  service  to  the  sublime. 

And  any  human  appealing  for  help, 

Receives  succor,  if  thoughts  are  in  time; 

In  heaven  this  time  is  a  measure, 

Related  to  right  and  wrong; 

If  to  Heaven  we  appeal  in  the  wrong  spirit, 

We  collide  with  the  force  that  would  help  us  on. 

A  loss  to  wrong  is  a  gain  for  the  right, 

As  the  universe  is  made  to  ring  true, 

To  the  heart  of  the  supplicant  who  would  fight. 

In  the  interest  of  unselfish  and  honest  due. 

We  might  muse  on  heaven  for  ages, 

And  compared  to  what  is  not  touched,  we  are  mute, 
As  everything  in  heaven  is  found  multiplied. 
Increasing  inversely  by  cube  root. 

XIX 

Helen : 

The  night  is  far  spent  and  I‘m  lonely; 

Sleep  has  fled  from  my  eyes; 

If  I  could  but  command  my  being. 

What  should  I  do  to  be  wise? 

I  cannot  reach  fair  conclusions, 

With  my  soul  raging  in  love, 

And  all  my  thoughts  in  expectation, 

Surging  at  the  least  delicate  move. 


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The  friends  at  the  office  are  so  fond, 
Striving  always  to  get  a  smile, 

And  I  am  glad  for  their  love, 

As  I  am  sure  my  strength  is  on  trial. 

The  little  old  office  boy,  Grubbs, 

Hangs  around  my  desk  like  a  little  pup, 

And  when  I  need  anything,  at  a  glance, 
Grubbs,  like  “a  genii'  is  up; 

He  is  so  afraid  I  will  want  something, 

When  he  is  gone  on  an  errand,  or  chore, 

When  he  returns,  first  thing  he  does. 

Is  ask  if  he  can  do  something  more. 

That  is  how  I  know  heaven  is  a  good  place, 
lor  love  reigns  supreme  up  there; 

And  here  it  makes  such  a  difference, 

That  happiness  with  Him  is  anywhere. 

I  feel  so  sorry  for  the  girls  that  lack  it; 

I  watch  them  sometimes  at  the  Y ; 

They  look  so  empty  and  forsaken, 

It  would  not  take  much  to  make  them  cry. 

Some  are  so  desperate,  it’s  heart-rending; 

One  little  Miss  I  know  with  a  beau 

She  has  picked  up  somewhere  in  flirtation; 

Always  in  that  fantastic  roadster,  on  the  go; 

If  I  am  any  judge  of  human  nature, 

She  is  looking  for  a  man  she  can  trust, 

But  she  certainly  made  a  bad  selection — 

That  fellow  thinks  honor  is  a  bust. 

I  know  the  poor  girl  is  emotional, 

And  he  has  energy  to  spare, 

So  finding  her  lacking  protection, 

He’ll  lead  her  into  a  snare; 

Some  promise  of  future  condition, 

Which  he  knows  well  he  will  not  fill; 

But  she  cannot  see  through  his  mask; 

Such  maidens  at  love  have  no  skill. 


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Our  emotions  have  a  way  of  crossing  the  gulf, 
That  do  each  of  us  separate; 

"While  she  thinks  her  heart  she  obeys, 

She  bows  to  the  will  of  a  reprobate. 

It's  sad  to  know,  it*s  depressing, 

To  see  humanity  go  to  wreck, 

But  what  can  I  do  to  help  it, 

When  my  own  heart  knows  not  when  to  speak? 


XX 

Helen: 

I  see  Dr.  Soakem  Lechmasters 
Visiting  across  the  street; 

That  man  is  a  walking  cesspool, 

With  his  smiling  face  and  red  cheeks; 

Some  women  seem  to  prefer  him; 

He  is  built  for  all  kinds  of  calls; 

While  he  knows  little  of  medicine, 

He  knows  how  to  be  silent  as  the  walls. 

When  evil  to  evil  is  mating. 

I  suppose  I  have  no  right  to  complain, 

As  otherwise  they  might  become  dangerous. 
For  those  who  love  honest  gain; 

They  spend  themselves  hell  a  breeding, 

And  the  harvest  some  one  must  reap. 

But  disease  and  righteous  judgment. 

Will  help  put  them  to  sleep. 

I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  nightmare, 

Old  Soakem  has  at  times? 

I’ll  bet  the  devil  rides  him 
Till  he  hears  his  funeral  chimes; 

Imagine  him  reaching  the  portal  of  the  damned, 
With  that  load  he  wears  like  a  cross, 

Asking  for  St.  Peter,  or  the  angel  in  charge, 

To  show  him  his  mansion  of  dross. 

One  good  thing  about  it  is. 

He’ll  find  many  of  his  customers  there. 

And  then  they  can  match  their  accounts, 


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Commencing  their  souls  to  bare; 

They  will  need  much  time  to  uncover  him. 

Of  lies  and  lust  and  greed; 

But  then  they’ll  have  time  enough, 

To  weigh  and  measure  every  deed. 

To  the  woman  with  too  much  fire  he  told, 

That  her  husband  was  cheating  her  bed, 

And  all  he  knew  was  she  should  too, 

Or  else  she  would  soon  be  dead; 

He  faces  her  there  with  her  wail  of  despair, 

When  they  are  matching  their  accounts; 

He  finds  that  she  is  no  better  than  he, 

They  were  charged  with  equal  amounts. 

When  duplicity  starts  in  to  deceive  his  sister, 

He  finds  when  he  has  made  a  good  job, 

That  she  went  around  with  every  bound, 

And  they  suceeded  each  other  to  rob. 

The  wail  of  the  man  who  thought  to  appear, 

What  he  knew  he  was  not, 

Is  heard  all  about  and  then  drowned  out, 

By  the  wails  of  those  who  stole  what  they  got; 

So  lie  against  lie,  and  fraud  against  fraud, 

Square  the  accounts  of  the  realm; 

And  Satan  is  able  to  guard  his  stable, 

And  his  authority  to  hold  to  the  helm; 

When  theft  matches  theft,  the  two  are  naught, 

And  thus  the  accounts  stand  squared; 

From  greatest  to  least  the  ratio  goes, 

And  hell  is  inversely  impaired. 

By  matching  deed  against  deed,  and  word  against  word. 
The  figures  begin  to  fall, 

And  as  the  grossness  disappears, 

The  intrinsic  sinner  touches  gall. 

The  harder  the  sinner,  the  more  vicious  the  deed, 

Which  they  executed  with  a  will; 


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In  hell  at  last  they  are  bound  to  their  task, 

And  set  to  restore  the  whole  bill. 

Hell  is  a  good  place  methinks  to  be. 

As  there  the  wrong-doers  find  a  place, 

Where  they  can  pay  their  debts  to  the  last  mite, 
And  no  one  to  extend  them  grace. 

Justice  sits  around  on  every  hand, 

With  a  club  as  big  as  he  can  wield; 

A  sinner  himself,  each  one  against  all  others, 

Is  striving  to  control  the  field. 

Like  gas  within  walls  when  fire  is  applied, 
They  produce  a  lot  of  power; 

Since  hell  is  confined,  and  the  service  is  outside, 
Let  them  wield  their  clubs  by  the  hour. 

Thus,  God  in  His  wisdom  saves  the  lost, 

To  Himself,  even  though  they  are  lost  still, 

And  Heaven  and  Hell  work  hand  in  hand, 

To  do  the  Creator’s  will. 

Truth  is  King,  and  righteousness  is  good, 

And  let  all  who  would  otherwise  consider, 

Take  care  for  his  hire,  else  in  fire, 

He  shall  serve  an  unholy  bidder. 

XXI 

Helen : 

While  walking  to  day  I  talked  to  my  neice, 
Who  says  when  she  is  through  school, 

She  is  going  to  be  a  picture  actress; 

I  said  what  for,  you  little  fool? 

The  little  sweet  replied  with  more  good  sense, 
Than  I  had  ever  guessed  she  had, 

That  she  wanted  to  go  where  she  could  live. 

As  life  in  the  pictures  is  never  sad; 

She  could  live  in  pictures  in  after  years, 

When  age  had  brought  her  down, 

And  then  she  could  see  herself  young, 

Still  wearing  a  movie  crown; 


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She  said  she  did  not  want  to  be  a  vamp; 

She  wanted  to  be  a  lady  pure, 

And  to  play  that  part,  she  would  live  it  in  her  heart, 
And  success  would  come  then  sure. 

I  told  her  that  some  one  had  to  fail, 

If  contrast  the  pictures  had; 

She  said  there  are  plenty  to  play  that  part. 

Who  in  their  hearts  are  bad. 

But  you  know  dear,  the  right  at  times, 

Has  terrible  things  to  fight, 

And  sometimes  you  lose,  and  wrong  wins, 

After  fighting  with  all  your  might; 

What  would  you  do  when  you  lose, 

And  the  world  pushes  you  down, 

Not  knowing  that  you  are  a  better  girl, 

And  do  not  deserve  a  frown? 

I  would  just  continue  to  be  myself. 

And  let  death  take  its  toll; 

You  see,  if  I  am  I,  and  they  are  they, 

We  won’t  be  buried  in  the  same  hole. 

But  you  know,  that  will  not  happen  now; 

The  day  when  right  can  be  hurt. 

And  nobody  raise  a  protecting  hand, 

Has  been  banished  from  this  land. 

My  dear,  do  not  be  too  sure  of  that. 

The  wrong  is  still  with  us, 

And  may  be  felt  in  places, 

We  are  not  at  liberty  to  discuss. 

The  greatest  trouble  with  us  girls, 

Is  the  weakness  in  ourselves; 

We  fail  to  be  what  it  takes  to  stand, 

Against  some  of  the  vicious  wolves; 

We  want  little  things  that  catch  our  eye, 

Or  ear,  or  taste,  in  some  way, 

And  before  we  are  aware, 

An  evil  influence  holds  us  at  bay; 

Of  course  if  we  are  full  of  courage, 


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We  would  not  be  at  a  loss, 

But  cowardly  streaks  are  in  us  all, 

And  one  of  them  our  will  gets  across; 

The  devil  facing  you  is  aware, 

That  the  line  he  has  will  not  stick, 

So  he  does  not  dare  try  to  land  you  there, 

But  hedges  for  another  trick. 

Like  little  cords,  or  spider’s  web, 

If  we  ignorantly  the  hours  beguile, 

Before  you  know  it  you  are  tied  fast; 

Then  your  enemy  gloats  in  his  smile. 

It  behooves  us  all  to  be  meek,  little  dear, 

Then  we  are  not  tempting  sin; 

It  is  equally  good  to  be  pure  in  heart, 

So  the  tempter  cannot  enter  in; 

Then  we  are  rich,  no  matter  how  poor, 

For  the  heart  is  a  kingdom  of  light; 

The  spirit  will  comfort  if  you  have  cause  to  mourn, 
And  give  courage  in  any  plight; 

If  we  are  merciful,  we  are  laying  up  gain, 

For  the  recipient  will  owe  us  love; 

And  for  righteousness  we  should  endure  any  pain, 
The  heart  of  the  Infinite  to  move. 

Let  us  be  far  from  strife, 

And  in  tumult  be  not  dismayed; 

For  the  God  of  peace  is  nigh, 

And  will  honor  the  courage  displayed; 

If  others  when  envious  of  you, 

Shall  falsely  proclaim  you  at  sin, 

Do  not  answer  with  like  acclaim, 

But  pray  that  the  tempter  enter  not  in. 

If  you  are  falsely  charged, 

The  truth  will  bear  you  up; 

Wear  a  smile  and  feel  good  then, 

With  princes  you  are  about  to  sup. 


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Men  are  supposed  to  be  ruled  by  reason, 
But  their  reason  is  mostly  short, 

And  their  various  moods  in  season, 

Rule  them,  ranging  from  anger  to  sport. 

Some  get  chucked  by  distemper, 

And  entertain  a  grudge,  or  spite, 

And  forget  everything  vital  their  life  needs. 
Avenging  themselves,  and  think  it’s  right. 

The  human  is  a  recapitulation, 

Of  every  animal  that  lives,  or  did  live, 

And  you’ll  find  the  predominating  disposition, 
Of  any  animal  the  catalogue  ■will  give; 

There  are  people  like  dogs  in  their  passion. 
There  are  men  like  lions  in  their  wrath, 

And  women  of  feline  disposition; 

Hogs  will  make  mire  in  your  path. 

My  dear,  your  aim  at  art  is  high, 

And  I  would  urge  you  on; 

By  raising  the  quality  of  pictures, 

You  will  shine  through  the  ages  to  come; 

But  bear  in  mind  you  alone  can  do  nothing; 
You  must  get  a  source  of  strength; 

There  is  just  one  source  you  may  draw  from, 
Without  compromising  yourself  at  length; 

The  Infinite  ever  is  ready, 

If  you’ll  bathe  in  the  current  of  His  love, 

He  will  give  you  an  impetus  forward, 

And  over  all  things  less  perfect  set  above, 
There  is  more  fear  from  women, 

Than  you  should  fear  of  men, 

As  the  canker  your  pal  may  leave  you, 

Will  serve  as  a  lead  to  bring  others  in. 

XXII 

Helen: 

A  lady  at  a  desk  across  from  me, 

With  eyes  as  black  as  a  coal, 


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Snap  fire  like  the  eyes  of  an  adder; 

She  envies  the  grit  of  my  soul; 

She  loves  the  luxuries  of  the  century, 

And  famishes  for  influence  with  power; 

She  has  a  world  of  dark  beauty, 

Still  she  paints  to  look  more  like  a  flower; 
Her  desire  for  the  things  she  cannot  reach, 
Made  her  hie  to  money  unwed; 

Now  fear  begins  to  unloose  her, 

And  her  heart  begins  to  weigh  like  lead. 

The  company  she  keeps  promulgates, 
That  she  pays  the  piper  she  hires; 

For  we  all  know  some  of  life’s  antics, 

That  indicate  burning  carnal  fires. 

Humans  seem  to  play  upon  each  other, 

As  the  musician  upon  his  harp; 

To  do  so  we  must  understand  the  method, 
And  the  pitch,  whether  flat,  or  sharp. 

I  have  a  stroke  of  love  still  ringing, 

In  my  heart  which  shall  never  cease, 

Until  the  melodious  concord, 

Has  set  my  whole  life  at  ease. 

Oh,  when  shall  my  winter  of  waiting, 

Turn  into  the  spring  of  the  real, 

And  love  set  to  growing  and  blooming, 

May  reward  a  virgin’s  zeal? 

I  shall  make  a  survey  of  my  entity, 

And  put  it  in  God’s  hand, 

And  worry  no  more  of  results, 

Or  where  I  shall  finally  land. 

Some  people  think  God’s  kingdom 
Will  come  like  the  lightning  flash; 

Methinks  it  shall  rise  like  the  morning: 

Like  sunshine  on  beds  of  trash; 

The  seed  of  truth  is  planted, 

And  when  the  light  begins  to  shine, 


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Out  of  the  world  so  unlovely, 

Will  spring  everything  beautiful  and  sublime; 

The  enemy  in  ignorance  and  darkness, 

Will  sneak  away  with  shame, 

When  the  might  of  reason  and  gladness, 

Begins  to  proclaim  the  King’s  fame. 

XXIII 

Will: 

Father,  why  so  down-hearted? 

You  look  as  if  the  world  were  at  an  end. 

Son,  I  am  no  prophet  if  God  on  this  wicked  generation 
Does  not  some  calamity  send. 

My  coal  is  out,  and  the  price  is  so  high, 

I  cannot  grow  enough  grain  to  buy  it; 

It  is  cheaper  for  me  to  burn  the  grain, 

And  let  them  eat  their  coal,  or  try  it. 

The  unions  all  seem  to  be  mad; 

They  want  the  world  prepared  for  them, 

Like  a  banquet,  all  ready  for  eating, 

Nothing  to  do  but  sit  down  and  begin; 

They  call  on  the  government  to  take  things  over, 

As  if  the  force  of  right  had  no  power; 

They  rant  around  over  the  country, 

And  expect  all  opposition  in  front  of  them  to  cower; 
They  know  nothing  of  economics, 

That  everything  in  life  must  be  weighed, 

Against  something  else  somewhere, 

So  the  ship  of  state  may  be  stayed. 

The  men  want  to  run  the  railroads, 

As  a  thing  they  themselves  possess, 

With  high  pay  and  pensions  to  those 
Who  at  labor  or  serving  do  the  les9; 

It  looks  like  a  game  of  self  first, 

And  let  the  man  at  the  bottom 
Get  what  he  can,  or  go  hungry; 

They  are  no  better  than  Sodom. 


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How  can  I  live  on  equality, 

If  the  men  who  make  what  I  buy, 

Get  what  I  produce  in  a  whole  day, 

In  a  few  bats  of  their  eye? 

At  the  market  a  load  of  potatoes, 

Will  buy  when  I  exchange  it  for  coal, 

About  as  much,  measured  in  time, 

As  it  took  to  get  them  out  of  the  hole; 

The  coal  men  for  an  hour  of  palavering, 

Get  as  much  as  I  get  all  day, 

So  why  should  not  I  burn  fence  rails, 

And  let  them  eat  their  pay? 

When  I  start  to  market 
With  the  things  that  I  grow  on  my  ground, 

The  railroad  men  want  more  than  the  price  of  it, 
For  hauling  it  around. 

I  guess  it  is  about  time  for  the  judgment, 

Or  for  everybody  to  stop  and  fight, 

As  things  cannot  go  on  this  way; 

Nothing  fair  about  it;  ain't  right. 

Well,  dad,  I  would  not  be  so  gloomy; 

There  is  a  lot  of  room  left  for  hope; 

Indeed,  the  breaking  of  the  day 

Is  the  the  darkest  period  through  which  we  grope; 

There  is  a  reward  and  a  rich  one, 

For  all  who  work  with  faith; 

If  you  don’t  get  it  right  away,  be  patient, 

As  many  get  their  reward  after  death. 

Have  you  not  heard  of  a  saying, 

And  a  glorious  one  too,  I  opine: 

Lay  up  your  treasures  in  heaven, 

Where  the  glory  is  all  thine; 

Not  too  greatly  should  we  be  annoyed, 


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r*r* 

/5 


Over  the  differences  of  the  time; 

Go  and  let  mother  tell  you, 

How  to  reap  the  fruits  of  your  grime. 

You  know,  dad,  we  are  all  living  in  a  nation, 
Built  on  love  and  sacrifice, 

And  the  men  who  did  the  building 
Gave  and  gave,  first  service,  and  then  life; 

These  people  who  make  the  trouble, 

Are  not  the  off-springs  of  the  ancient’s  work; 

They  are  tares  sown  by  the  enemy. 

And  at  that  time,  gave  not  a  chirp. 

Take  these  differences  between  capital  and  labor: 
Capital  has  been  a  coward  throughout  his  day; 

Capital  is  a  parasite  on  the  work  of  credit, 

Who  during  a  fight  is  hidden  away. 

When  the  sun  begins  to  shine  again, 

After  credit  has  won.  and  made  peace. 

Capital  comes  crawling  out  in  his  slime, 

And  yells:  “Hurrah;  we  licked  the  beast.” 

But  labor  is  no  better; 

In  the  time  of  sacrifice, 

Labor  will  press  for  his  advantage, 

And  no  one  dare  withhold  his  price; 

To  himself  he  would  turn  traitor; 

He  is  such  enough  fool  to  believe. 

That  by  throwing  the  whole  works  down, 

He  the  fruits  of  victory  will  receive. 

After  the  fight  if  he  gets  through  all  right, 

He  turns  to  getting  as  much  gain. 

From  any  trumped-up  simple  excuse, 

That  would  put  an  honest  man  to  shame. 

While  the  battle  is  raging, 

The  man  who  goes  farthest  behind, 

After  peace  is  made,  leads  all  others, 

In  the  race  to  see  what  salvage  he  can  find; 


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The  labor  union  is  a  mere  excuse 
To  get  away  from  duty  well  done, 

And  not  get  caught  on  pay-day, 

With  an  empty  envelope,  and  the  paymaster  gone. 

There  are  fool  masters  who  misuse  their  men, 

But  you  cannot  correct  them  in  a  fray; 

As  long  as  such  fellows  are  going, 

It  means  the  servant  is  in  no  better  way; 

The  price  must  be  paid  for  the  good  things  we  have; 
They  cannot  be  had  for  a  wink; 

And  the  ones  who  would  enjoy  what  others  have  earned, 
Are  the  ones  who  would  do  well  to  stop  and  think. 

The  land  shall  be  touched  with  a  plow, 

That  shall  dig  to  the  roots  of  the  race, 

And  all  unworthy  the  succor  now, 

Shall  be  sealed  with  their  doom  on  their  face; 

Talent  will  be  dealt  for  honorable  success, 

And  credit  withal  for  their  meed; 

And  none  but  the  faithful  shall  know, 

What  mercy  and  justice  need; 

The  worker  who  toils  for  service, 

Forgetting  himself  in  the  fun, 

Shall  be  rewarded  with  justice, 

After  that,  there  shall  be  honor  done. 

Let  all  of  those  who  rush  for  the  slaughter, 
Perish  by  the  hand  they  would  slay; 

The  two  shall  perish  in  their  sorrow, 

In  the  dawning  of  a  better  day. 

Those  who  would  reach  honored  position, 

Shall  go  there  by  their  sendee  to  mankind; 

As  all  men  will  be  honest,  true  honor 
Shall  seek  the  mark  it  would  find; 

Every  man  a  law  to  himself  shall  be, 

In  accord  with  the  law  of  the  land; 

None  shall  there  be  to  say  any  nay. 

When  more  than  is  required  is  in  every  hand. 


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When  forward  we  have  marched  in  progress, 
Until  we  touch  hands  with  the  blest, 

We  still  grow,  intensify,  and  possess, 

Until  at  last  we  recover  the  past; 

The  future  as  such  is  the  holder 
Of  a  mortgage  on  past  years, 

And  out  of  their  misery  retrieve, 

Their  friends  with  sacred  tears; 

So  when  honor  secures  her  birthright, 

And  all  things  mend  their  ways, 

The  wearers  of  white  robes  are  reconciled, 

And  added  to  with  sinners’  days. 

Dad: 

You  may  be  right,  I  hope  so, 

And  I  will  not  start  any  war  of  my  own, 

But  if  these  devils  who  are  making  it  so  hard, 
Kill  one  another,  I’ll  never  groan. 

XXIV 

Dad: 

Sis  Canister  got  married  again; 

I  thought  after  her  first  loss. 

She  would  be  satisfied  on  widow’s  fame, 

But  she’s  done  caught  another  hoss; 

I  hope  the  poor  girl  makes  it  all  right, 

But  I’ll  tell  you  boy,  while  I  may  be  wrong, 

The  man  who  succeeds  by  such  as  she, 

Is  a  man  you  can  number  with  the  strong. 

She  went  to  the  County  Fair  last  month, 
Prancing  around,  like  a  girl  of  twelve; 

It’s  my  mind  when  they  kick  up  that  way, 

They  are  not  thinking  about  bettering  themselves. 
She  and  some  more  gals  passed  my  booth, 
Where  I  was  showing  my  choice  grain; 

She  yelled  like  some  ragamuffin  might: 

“Old  man’s  on  the  market  again.” 

She  grabbed  an  ear  and  shelled  some  off, 


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And  threw  it  across  next  door, 

Where  a  lady  was  showing  some  hens: 

“I  used  to  be  a  chicken,  but  I’m  not  any  more”. 

She  is  pretty  as  a  pink,  and  full  of  fight, 
But  she  never  shows  any  signs, 

Of  what  we  old  folks  call  modesty; 

I  hope  she  is  no  worse  for  her  shines. 

You  know  boy,  I  always  liked  that  gal, 

In  spite  of  her  naughty  ways; 

She  is  good  and  straight,  I’ll  swear  she  is, 

But  her  jealous  husband  had  awful  days. 

She  was  telling  me  about  her  life  with  him, 
She  said:  I  would  always  tease 
And  fret  him  so  much,  sometimes  I  got  afraid 
He  would  kill  me,  I  was  ill  at  ease; 

One  time  we  went  to  a  picnic, 

And  he,  in  his  jealous  rage, 

Hit  a  man  in  the  face  with  the  food, 

Because  he  smiled  at  my  capers  in  the  sage; 
And  then  one  night  he  locked  me  out 
Because  I  would  not  come  in  early; 

I  slept  in  the  barn  that  night, 

In  a  hole  I  dug  in  the  barley. 

About  midnight  I  heard  a  chicken  squall, 

It  scared  me  out  of  my  wits; 

Then  a  rat  or  something  went  hopping  over  me, 
And  I  had  another  spasm  of  fits; 

I  stuck  it  out  until  the  roosters  crowed, 

And  then  went  to  the  kitchen  to  cook; 

I  served  all  smiling,  and  he  got  ashamed; 

He  couldn’t  give  me  an  honest  look. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  I  forgave  him  though; 

I  slept  in  my  bed,  he  in  his; 

Till  when  he  took  sick,  I  had  to  give  in; 

He  was  only  a  child,  and  I  had  to  forgive; 

He  went  away  and  left  me  alone, 


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And  I  feel  partly  to  blame, 

For  sending  him  forth  to  meet  God, 

Leaving  me  here  with  only  his  name. 

I  loved  him  though,  very  much, 

But  his  temper  was  like  a  fire; 

I  imagine  if  an  excuse  I  had  given  him, 

He  would  have  sent  me  away  from  here. 

I  am  full  of  life,  it’s  in  my  blood; 

I  run  over  like  a  brook, 

That  is  too  large  for  the  ditch  it  has  made  for  itself, 
And  over  the  bank  it  took; 

I  wanted  a  baby  and  he  did  not. 

And  that  is  where  we  disagreed; 

If  God  gives  me  something,  I  want  it, 

But  he  otherwise  decreed; 

I  hope  he  is  in  heaven,  poor  fellow, 

So  weak  and  jealous,  high-strung; 

Had  the  pride  of  a  Lochinvar; 

On  such  a  character  it  was  hung. 

At  times  I  reach  the  top  of  my  freedom, 

And  might  take  an  awful  plunge, 

But  for  the  hold  of  a  good  mother; 

I  feel  her  hand  when  i  want  to  lunge; 

Tempering  me  with  her  silence, 

Though  dead  these  many  years, 

She  still  lives  in  my  body, 

And  probably  also  in  my  tears; 

The  carnal  fires  of  life  cook  me, 

Like  the  heat  of  a  hellish  blaze. 

And  I  rush  at  release  with  a  fury. 

But  God  has  a  million  ways; 

I'm  thwarted  at  ends  by  designing, 

Of  another  hand  than  my  own; 

I  once  allowed  a  course  of  seduction, 

But  a  better  way  led  me  on; 

So  honesty  has  overshadowed  me, 


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And  led  me  outside  of  my  will, 

And  I  now  hope  shall  continue 
To  protect  me  from  all  ill. 

I  have  no  cause  for  unhappiness, 

Save  from  the  urge  within; 

Like  sitting  on  a  volcano, 

That  would  hurl  me  into  sin; 

Perhaps  the  years  will  assuage  me, 

And  when  I  am  attached  by  time, 

I  shall  find  a  use  for  the  power 
That  has  kept  me  suspended  on  a  line; 

I  hope  it  shall  be  good  and  glorious, 

And  answer  the  purpose  of  the  One, 

Who  reached  out  with  a  strong  arm  and  held  me, 
When  I  proposed  to  do  myself  wrong. 

I  have  cut  loose  from  the  woman  who  helped  me, 
To  frame  the  dishonor  of  my  robe, 

Who  now  is  seeking  other  victims, 

To  carry  the  vulture’s  daub. 

Since  I  have  got  to  thinking, 

Which  is  a  thing  the  victim  does  not, 

I  see  the  ways  of  Satan  better. 

And  how  he  manages  to  fill  his  pot: 

The  telephone  girl  in  her  service, 

Communicates  with  all  the  birds  of  prey, 

Though  it  is  only  to  give  a  number, 

The  birds  tell  it  so  it  sounds  not  that  way; 

A  lingering  hook  on  one  word, 

May  be  set  to  continue  the  pull, 

Abetted  by  others  in  the  same  way, 

Until  a  sail  is  full; 

A  conspiracy  so  wide  as  the  devil, 

Can  plant  in  the  heart  of  a  man, 

Will  pull  altogether  for  evil, 

And  widens  out  like  a  fan. 


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As  the  human  race  flows  like  a  river, 
Where  the  least  small  way  has  been  made, 
Evil  uses  this  small  beginning, 

To  anchor  the  soul  in  the  shade; 

While  ease  and  good  feeling  will  hover, 
With  a  purpose  more  sinister  than  bold, 
The  little  advantage  is  pressed  homeward, 
And  the  tentacles  of  sin  take  better  hold; 
Here  it  is  hard  for  the  unthinking. 
Especially  where  duty  is  betrayed, 

To  assert  their  own  mind  for  well-being, 
Since  well-being  means  leaving  this  trade; 
The  soul  is  enthralled  for  the  body, 

And  nature  unprotected  gives  way; 

The  last  state  is  always  more  helpless; 

Then  evil  suggests,  and  they  obey. 

How  may  the  unthinking  human 
B«.  fettered  where  the  light  will  shine; 
Conducing  to  more  mental  action, 

Until  full  use  is  had  of  the  mind? 

It’s  too  big  a  question  for  one  person, 
And  still  too  pressing  to  leave, 

As  men  and  women  are  passing, 

Where  Satan’s  dark  works  will  deceive; 
Unite  every  soul  with  a  purpose, 

To  fulfil  the  mission  of  the  Christ; 

We  will  hold  a  perpetual  meeting  place 
With  Him  to  keep  the  tryst; 

With  every  glance  and  expression, 

With  this  desire  to  win, 

We  shall  overcome  the  opposition, 

And  bring  the  wanderers  in; 

There  is  no  other  way  to  overcome 
The  forces  of  greed  and  lust, 

Save  to  pursue  with  diligence, 

The  smallest  and  greatest  trust. 


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She  talked  thus  for  hours, 

And  finally  with  a  sigh, 

She  leaped  over  the  banisters, 

And  waved  herself  good-by; 

Such  a  girl!  oh  my  heart! 

She  is  like  a  storm  in  the  well; 

But  human  nature  is  just  the  same, 

And  we  can  never  tell; 

If  some  old  weakness 
Does  not  break  out  anew, 

I’ll  bet  that  gal  makes  a  saint  yet, 

With  a  heart  as  strong  and  true. 

XXV 

Dad: 

Son,  they  tell  me  you  were  running  around 
With  a  woman  a  few  days  ago; 

That  you  spent  your  time  in  the  woods, 

And  everyone  is  talking  about  you  so; 

Who  is  it,  and  why  were  you 
Away  on  such  a  lark? 

Don't  you  know  it  is  unsafe? 

You  might  get  shot  in  the  dark. 

Dad,  that  lady  is  just  a  woman, 

Full  of  home  and  friends; 

She  is  a  social  leader  at  home. 

And  has  enough  wealth  for  her  ends; 

She  was  away  on  a  little  rest, 

Tired  of  the  old  surroundings; 

I  found  her  a  wife  of  a  friendly  mien, 

Beyond  that  I  took  no  soundings; 

We  went  to  many  places  about, 

And  had  all  the  fun  of  the  hour; 

I  told  her  I  would  hate  to  be  caught, 

Without  innocence  to  give  me  power. 

She  mentioned  that  people  would  probably  talk, 
And  I  told  her  my  credit  was  immense, 

As  I  stand  well  around  here, 


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And  could  ward  off  every  offense. 

"We  really  did  nothing  wrong; 

Of  course  with  my  love  of  the  female, 

I  teased  her  a  bit,  and  hugged  her  once. 

But  never  undertook  anything  that  might  fail; 

I  thought  I  was  doing  all  this 
That  I  might  get  close  to  her  heart; 

As  you  know,  influence  does  not  go. 

Until  emotions  play  their  part. 

After  gaining  the  vantage  of  close  kinship, 

I  sought  to  endear  her  more 

To  the  principles  of  the  square  deal, 

Such  as  her  husband  would  adore; 

She  told  me  of  him  and  his  ways. 

And  explained  that  he  was  a  good  fellow. 

At  which  I  brought  the  strength  of  my  face 
To  have  her  regret  any  sully. 

While  I  fastened  her  shoe,  and  her  stocking  too, 
I  am  sure  she  thinks  no  less  of  me, 

By  going  away  feeling  less  gay, 

But  sobered  and  trying  to  solve  me; 

I  wish  her  well,  God  bless  her  still, 

And  hold  her  in  His  arms  always, 

As  I  am  sure  she  will  be  in  heaven  some  day, 
And  will  be  glad  to  know  me  and  love  me. 

I  will  admit  I  have  had  a  lot  to  say 
To  women  in  days  gone  by, 

And  it  was  not  all  solicitation — 

I  had  many  experiments  to  try; 

In  my  sappy  days  I  warmed  often, 

By  the  side  of  a  feminine  fire; 

I  could  pick  a  sweet  lady  to  sit  by, 

And  the  show  would  never  tire; 

That  was  not  all  experiment, 

Though  I  wanted  to  learn  the  shock, 

Of  sitting  close  to  a  strange  woman, 

With  character  apparently  like  a  rock. 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


I  really  love  all  -women; 

Probably  an  outgrowth  of  love  for  mother 
To  include  all  womankind, 

To  have  a  mother  in  every  other; 

Life  however  is  too  slippery  I  guess 
For  such  close  relations  now, 

And  we  shall  have  to  continue  as  strangers 
To  get  along  somehow7. 

For  the  question  I  care  not,  it  is  the  answer, 
The  good  or  ill  of  such  wrork; 

It  may  be  like  pruning  a  grapevine; 

More  probably  like  enfranchising  a  Turk. 

The  way  of  right  living  is  lonesome; 

It  is  somewhat  like  mountain  peaks, 

So  few  there  are.  it’s  cold  up  here, 

And  one  rarely  such  company  seeks. 

Men  of  acrimonious  spirit 
Develop  where  lust  is  rife; 

If  such  a  man  gave  more  energy  to  sendee, 

He  would  waste  less  on  his  wife; 

The  wife  would  have  more  thought  of  him, 

To  fill  his  life  full  of  sweets, 

And  the  sting  of  much  agitation 
Would  be  supplanted,  and  fewer  cheats. 

The  test  of  true  love  is  to  help  those, 

We  love  and  cannot  enjoy; 

WThat  it  cannot  possess, 

That,  false  love  seeks  to  destroy; 

Destroy  it  through  lust  and  greed, 

And  little  things  that  annoy, 

All  these  things  lead  to  disorder, 

And  rob  life  of  its  joy. 

I  seek  to  make  life  w'orth  while 
To  the  army  of  employees  I  lead; 

If  I  fail  in  anything  today  I  hope  to  know. 
And  tomorrow  w'e  shall  succeed. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


85 


Dad: 

You  are  not  the  kind  of  boy 
That  commits  a  lot  of  mischief; 

It  is  not  the  single  sin  that  hurts, 

But  planted,  it  produces  thousands  of  itself. 

In  the  world  of  spirit,  dad, 

An  act  weighs  according  to  the  intent; 

We  may  a  very  slight  expression  give, 

The  thought  of  the  evil  we  might  invent. 

XXVI 


Helen: 

Oh,  why  do  I  have  to  wait  so  long. 

The  blessings  of  faith,  hope  and  love; 

They  are  wonderful  virtues  now, 

And  no  doubt  came  to  me  from  above; 

I  used  to  think  of  them 
As  one  thing  altogether, 

Like  wearing  the  same  clothes, 

In  all  kinds  of  weather; 

Now  I  wear  a  mind  of  faith, 

And  want  to  wear  it  all  the  time, 

But  as  winter  overshadows  my  heart. 

As  my  faith  gives  out,  I  put  hope  on; 

Hope  has  weathered  many  a  storm, 

And  is  good  for  many  more, 

But  as  the  blizzard  of  doubt  bears  down. 
My  soul  gets  discontented  and  sore; 

It  is  then  that  love  alone  will  do, 

And  arrayed  in  my  warmest  suit, 

I  dispel  all  fear  and  move  on, 

And  spring  brings  a  new  recruit. 

Here’s  Julia,  the  maid,  How  are  you? 
Sit  down  and  let’s  have  a  chat; 

What  do  you  think  of  the  men,  Julia, 

Do  you  receive  them  in  your  flat? 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Julia: 

The  men?  Oh,  Lord,  let’s  talk  about  the  devil, 
Then  we  know  what  to  expect; 

There  are  all  kinds  of  men,  mostly  bad, 

And  liars!  poor  womankind  is  wrecked! 

Last  night  a  poor  creature  knocked  at  my  door; 

She  was  hungry,  and  wanted  clothes  and  food; 

I  gave  her  an  old  cast-off  coat; 

She  was  in  an  awful  mood. 

I  asked  her  why  she  did  not  go  to  work; 

That  started  her  on  a  tantrum  right; 

She  said  I  used  to  work  till  these  devilish  men 
Took  me  out  so  much  at  night; 

I  can’t  get  nothing  to  do  now; 

Besides  I’m  not  a  mind  to  it; 

With  my  sickness  and  the  hellish  bosses, 

I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  do  it; 

I  got  a  bad  start,  but  I’m  not  to  blame; 

The  first  promised  to  marryin’; 

After  that  I  never  stopped  to  explain; 

From  night  to  night  I’d  carry  on; 

You  know,  us  fool  women  can’t  keep  money; 

Spend  everything  we  get; 

My  clothes  got  ragged,  can't  keep  clean; 

I  hate  every  man  I  ever  met. 

Some  of  those  that  work  in  the  kitchen, 

Will  probably  remain  no  more  true; 

Those  scalawags  that  come  to  see  them, 

Are  always  telling  them  what  they  ought  to  do; 
When  one  of  them  stays  to  hear  such  fool  pleading, 
I  know  she  is  yielding  then, 

Because  if  they  are  not  the  carnal  fires  feeding, 
They  leave  when  improprieties  begin. 

You  know  Miss  Helen,  I  ain’t  no  time 
To  help  them  with  their  trifles; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


87 


I  have  all  the  trouble  I  can  stand, 

With  the  buzzards  in  the  rooms,  and  their  sniffles. 

Julia,  you  are  a  little  too  hard, 

The  men  are  not  all  fallen  angels; 

But  woman  must  look  to  find  her  soul, 

And  it  will  keep  her  out  of  danger. 

When  our  spirit  leads  us  on, 

We  have  nothing  to  fear  from  men,  or  devils  either; 
But  of  course  it  is  unfair  to  us  to  require  so  much, 
While  they  for  faith  or  virtue  pretend  neither; 

It  is  a  terrible  load  to  have  to  bear, 

For  the  women  to  maintain  double  integrity, 

But  if  we  succeed  we  shall  be  rewarded; 

To  our  probity  will  be  added  nobility. 

Should  you  marry  one,  Julia, 

And  find  after  the  honeymoon, 

The  man  is  hardened  in  sin, 

And  a  high-tempered  jealous  poltroon; 

Demanding  you  obey  him, 

And  probably  poorly  provide. 

And  when  you  undertake  a  helping  hand. 

Every  detail  he  shall  decide; 

He  wants  to  know  how  you  get  all  your  money, 

For  fear  his  terrible  honor  be  touched; 

And  if  everything  goes  not  as  he  likes, 

Your  name  is  probably  besmirched; 
l  say,  what  will  you  do  about  it, 

After  you  are  married  to  him? 

You  probably  have  a  baby, 

And  your  health  is  not  in  good  trim; 

You  might  leave  and  take  your  child; 

Sometimes  such  men  kill; 

But  that  would  not  be  so  bad 
As  drop  by  drop  your  life  to  spill; 

If  you  stay  you  will  probably  be  beaten; 

Or  maybe  you’ll  suffer  in  fear; 

It  takes  the  soul  of  an  angel  or  dragon, 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


To  get  through  without  shedding  a  tear; 

You  must  fit  yourself  in  virtue, 

And  ever  be  on  the  watch; 

Else  some  cheap  bird  will  get  you, 

With  their  lies,  and  the  persuasion  they  hatch. 

The  trouble  is  not  in  their  heartlessness; 
They  really  believe  in  their  quest; 

It  is  in  their  cheap  breeding; 

No  character,  no  anything,  but  zest. 

Of  course  a  woman  of  quality, 

Who  puts  her  soul  on  the  rack, 

Can  control  such  a  man  and  get  a  living, 

But  it  is  a  big  load  on  her  back; 

She  must  figure  ahead  for  his  coming, 

Ever  ready  to  counter  with  excuse; 

And  when  he  would  determine  her  ways, 

Might  as  well  submit;  argument  is  no  use. 

For  me,  life  is  not  worth  living, 

With  a  man  who  does  not  yield, 

In  everything  my  rights  are  in  question; 

I  will  not  have  a  divided  field; 

I’ll  pray,  I’ll  work,  I’ll  contrive, 

To  bring  happiness  in, 

But  righteous  husbandly  devotion, 

1  shall  not  allow  to  drift  into  sin. 

Miss  Helen,  I’ll  tell  you  what  I’ll  do, 

If  I  get  caught  by  such  a  brute; 

I’ll  leave  him  and  work  for  myself, 

And  if  he  follows  me,  I’ll  shoot; 

Tm  not  an  affecting  lady; 

I  want  mine  and  I’ll  get  it  too; 

1  don’t  take  nothing  from  nobody, 

And  I’ll  be  on  hand  when  anything’s  to  do; 

In  calm  moments  if  I  hear  some  one 
Talk  about  the  pleasures  of  the  good, 

I’m  for  it  till  I  have  to  suffer, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


89 


But  when  the  fire  begins  to  burn,  I’m  made  of  wood; 
I’ll  tell  all  these  hardened  sinners. 

Who  come  a  wanting  my  hand, 

If  they  treat  me  right,  I’ll  stick  tight, 

But  that’s  as  far  as  I  go,  and  as  long  as  I  stand. 

XXVII 

Helen : 

I’ll  go  to  the  park  next  Sunday, 

And  sit  to  the  end  of  the  day; 

And  while  I  sit  there  waiting, 

I’ll  wish,  and  long,  and  pray; 

And  while  this  tryst  I’m  keeping, 

I  shall  with  faith  believe, 

That  the  man  I  want,  and  love, 

I  shall  soon  receive. 

Will: 

George,  I  am  going  to  the  city; 

I  have  fought  with  all  my  might, 

A  thing,  or  premonition,  or  other, 

That  lingers  just  in  my  sight; 

At  night  when  I  should  be  sleeping, 

My  rest  is  pushed  away, 

By  this  something  that  haunts  me, 

Forever  clamoring  for  its  say; 

I  shall  go  to  a  place  in  the  park, 

Where  a  woman  I  chanced  to  surprise, 

And  -while  I  was  to  her  a  stranger, 

I  gave  an  order  of  a  pretty  good  size; 

To  be  plain  with  you,  I  kissed  her, 

And  she  slapped  me  back  into  my  wits; 

Since  then  I  have  been  stubborn, 

And  while  I  stand,  my  judgment  sits; 

Whether  from  this  one  planting, 

All  this  unrest  grows  in  my  sentimentality, 

Or  whether  it  be  some  distant  force, 

That  plays  on  my  personality? 

That  is  the  question  I  am  to  settle; 


90 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


If  the  heart  of  a  woman  is  wronged, 

I  propose  to  make  restitution, 

And  remove  the  thoughts  my  mind  has  been  thronged. 

This  is  the  city,  and  here  is  the  park; 

I  shall  soon  reach  the  place; 

As  the  time  is  early,  I  will  slowly  walk, 

And  arrive  at  the  time  when  she  slapped  my  face. 

A  lady  is  sitting  on  the  same  bench, 

Where  mine  sat  three  years  since; 

The  same  one,  only  more  beautiful; 

She  sees  me;  She  starts!  See  her  wince! 

0  yes,  my  dear,  you  know  me, 

The  same  that  you  hated  long  ago; 

I  am  coming  to  make  apology,  for  the  act, 

As  well  as  the  years  that  had  to  go; 

Your  outstretched  arms  and  smile 
Tell  me  no  apology  need  be  made; 

And  your  blushes  so  red  to  your  hair  are  saying 
Your  love  is  like  mine;  no  confessions  need  be  said; 
The  happiness  this  moment  has  brought  me, 

Has  cost  me  many  a  sigh, 

But  I  should  be  willing  to  pay  a  million  more, 

To  keep  it,  and  the  cause  of  it  nigh. 

Helen : 

I  have  waited  so  long  for  you, 

But  my  heart  told  me  you  would  come; 

I  am  so  glad  I  have  waited  these  years, 

And  would  wait  till  life  is  done. 

The  day  you  surprised  me  so  long  ago, 

I  went  away  in  anger,  you  hurt  my  pride  so; 

The  stab  you  gave  me  then, 

Was  the  fatal  wound  for  pride, 

And  as  soon  as  its  pain  had  ceased, 

The  eyes  of  love  opened  wide; 

It  was  then  I  knew  the  lips  that  pressed 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


91 


That  daring  kiss  on  mine, 

Were  not  the  lips  of  a  coward, 

But  of  courage  and  character  fine. 

Scarce  an  hour  had  passed, 

Before  I  returned  to  see  if  you  were  here, 

But  pride  was  still  a  kicking, 

So  I  went  away  in  fear; 

Night  brought  my  bereavement  home, 

And  with  a  heart  bowed  down, 

I  took  stock  of  all  my  virtues; 

Cutting  off  the  past,  I  chose  the  future  for  my  own; 
Weighing  my  soul  for  its  worth, 

I  pledged  it,  every  ounce, 

To  secure  for  myself  the  man, 

Who  on  a  defenseless  woman  would  pounce; 

I  weighed  your  appearance  and  aspect, 

And  could  not  find  a  trace  of  sin; 

And  when  I  remembered  how  downcast  you  were, 

I  knew  my  heart  had  taken  you  in. 

Had  you  thought  I  know  not  your  name, 

Or  from  whence  you  come  to  me? 

My  name  is  Helen  Gounode; 

My  father  owns  yon  factory. 

Will: 

You  need  not  speak  further; 

Your  father  I  know  a  true  man; 

My  name  is  Will  Charlmain; 

Of  all  men  who  might  present  me,  your  father  can; 
The  orders  I  have  filled  for  him  are  many. 

And  some  has  he  filled  of  mine; 

And  I  am  sure  when  he  knows  my  will, 

It  will  be  the  same  as  thine; 

Cupid  is  a  mighty  hunter, 

To  bind  us  as  he  does, 


92 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


With  nothing  to  bind  us  with, 

Except  his  own  strength  in  love. 

Let  us  prepare  the  wedding, 

As  your  own  heart  should  design; 

And  all  things  shall  be  as  you  wish, 

Because  all  to  thee  I  assign. 

Not  so,  my  lord,  you  are  hasty; 

I  accept  naught  but  my  own;  * 

Father  shall  announce  the  nuptials, 

But  you  shall  preside  on  the  throne. 

Now  let’s  slip  away  to  some  little  nook, 
Where  nothing  will  annoy, 

And  compare  our  love  and  feelings, 

And  fill  our  lives  with  joy; 

After  dates  and  places, 

And  such  are  put  aside; 

I’ll  say  I  want  no  diamond; 

A  plain  gold  band  for  your  bride; 

I  should  like  to  love  and  be  loved, 

The  chief  thing  for  our  home; 

And  lest  we  both  be  found  incompetent, 

Let  us  invite  our  God  to  come; 

We’ll  put  our  hearts  together, 

And  lock  them  up  in  Him; 

There’ll  be  no  separations, 

As  He’ll  never  part  with  them; 

Then  we  will  plan  our  life’s  work, 

Taking  it  day  by  day; 

I’ll  choose  the  home  for  my  field, 

And  you  get  everything  that’s  away; 

I’ll  arrange  the  comforts  of  the  house* 

By  your  helping  hand; 

If  you’ll  let  me  help  you  outside, 

With  any  advice  I  can; 

You  may  have  your  own  room, 

And  I’ll  have  mine, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


93 


Where  each  can  be  free; 

You  may  sleep  in  your  own  bed. 

Unless  you  would  rather  sleep  with  me. 

Life  is  long  and  we  should  go  slow, 

At  least  that  is  my  hope; 

Else  we  start  off  so  fast,  we  cannot  last, 

And  I  fear  in  the  dark  might  grope; 

I  am  sure  you  are  amenable  to  my  love, 

Since  mine  is  amenable  to  thee; 

And  we  shall  be  happy  as  two  turtle  doves, 

And  every  whit  as  free. 

I  am  sure  you  have,  and  will  lead  a  good  life, 
Otherwise  it  could  not  have  been, 

My  love  could  reach  out  and  pull  you  in, 

Except  that  you  were  glad  for  me  to  win. 

Upon  thee  now  I  confer  lordship, 

Of  all  my  heart  and  love; 

And  be  united  with  thee  forever, 

In  holy  ties  from  above; 

Since  God  is  the  light  of  our  being, 

Let’s  bow  to  His  loving  hand, 

And  if  He  desires  fruits  from  our  bed, 

We’ll  submit  as  we  understand; 

I  know  that  from  us  He  may  have 
Anything  He  may  desire; 

Since  we  shall  willingly  await  His  wish, 

Before  we  apply  the  fire; 

We  may  love  and  kiss  and  caress; 

We  may  move  slowly,  or  "with  haste, 

But  since  God  has  been  enthroned  o’er  us  both, 

He  alone  shall  unite  us  below  the  waist. 

Our  children  shall  be  as  the  morning  light. 

Fresh  from  the  breast  of  the  Maker; 

So  when  we  have  joy  in  things  divine, 

We’ll  include  the  gifts  of  the  Creator. 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Let  us  bow  our  heads  as  we  ask  His  blessing, 
Upon  our  hearts  united  fresh, 

That  we  never  shall  have  cause  to  repent, 

This  union  of  our  flesh. 

Will: 

I  have  heard  every  word,  my  lady  love, 

And  I  consecrate  it  all  with  a  vow, 

That  when  God  and  you  agree, 

I  shall  humbly  and  gladly  bow. 

I  owe  our  Creator  a  mighty  debt; 

Perhaps  I  shall  never  be  able  to  pay; 

But  always  I  will  succor  His  lamp  of  love, 
tn  the  hope  He  accept  it  that  way. 

Our  lives  shall  be  dedicated  to  truth; 

No  lie  shall  pass  between; 

Either  written,  spoken,  or  implied; 

Let  not  the  hand  of  fraud  be  seen; 

The  tithes  that  in  our  blood  is  paid, 

Our  hearts  have  bought  for  their  account; 

And  righteousness  shall  ride  without  a  fall, 

When  it  has  truth  for  a  mount. 

If  envy,  or  jealousy,  or  Satan's  thong, 

Shall  ever  in  our  lives  be  thrust, 

Let  us  with  our  spiritual  fires  burn  off, 

Their  obstacles  with  our  trust; 

By  such  faith  and  saving  of  our  souls, 

The  time  may  speedily  come, 

Our  babes  will  possess  the  spiritual  life, 

Arrive  walking  and  talking  some. 

We  are  now  poor  because  we  have  not, 

The  life  of  the  infinite  kind; 

Which  we  may  have  if  we  stoop  to  the  grave, 

For  babes  to  come  with  a  mind. 

Those  who  love  Him  may  prevail  here, 

Without  their  own  born  babes, 

As  the  love  of  God  bridges  the  gap 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


95 


Between  men  through  their  good  deeds. 

The  whims  and  fads  of  whimsical  folks 
Are  not  strong  when  they  bud, 

But  in  after  years  when  they  see  their  faults, 
Their  fads  have  rebelled  and  stood; 

Therefore  plant  the  integrity  of  the  Christ, 

When  the  heart  begins  to  yearn, 

And  in  after  years  when  it  is  needed, 

It  will  not  of  experience  learn. 

By  no  suggestion,  or  smile, 

Let  us  a  friend  or  enemy  mislead, 

As  in  after  years  the  friend  may  be  foe, 

And  the  enemy  vengeance  need. 

In  the  heart  of  those  we  love  and  serve, 

We  bloom  and  bear  as  a  vine; 

It  is  better  to  put  our  treasure  there, 

Than  purchase  some  mill  or  mine. 

As  on  the  energy  of  the  sun  all  material  things 
Do  live  and  have  their  being; 

So  on  God’s  love  all  souls  depend 
For  hope  and  spiritual  seeing. 

I  have  seen  the  edge  of  the  infinite  will 
Sinuate  through  human  endeavor, 

And  convinced  I  am  it  is  His  desire, 

From  all  ignorance  we  should  sever. 

The  Genii  is  abroad  in  the  hearts  of  men; 

And  respects  not  any  nation; 

But  those  who  open  and  bid  Him  enter  in, 

He  completes  their  exaltation. 

I  am  not  the  captain  of  my  soul, 

Neither  was  Christ,  our  Lord; 

I  speak  the  things  I  hear  and  read 
From  His  holy  word. 


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Nations  as  well  as  inviduals  come  and  go 
But  truth  abideth  ever; 

Any  soul  that  knits  it  into  itself, 

Shall  live,  and  die  never. 


XXVIII 

Will: 

Scoggins,  what  is  wrong  in  the  mill, 

I  understand  they  have  called  a  strike? 

What  do  they  want  now,  more  money? 

Or  something  else  they  don’t  like? 

Mr.  Will,  they  want  a  twenty  per  cent  raise, 

And  quit  at  noon  on  Saturday; 

And  while  they  want  to  work  only  five  and  half  days, 
They  expect  six  days  of  pay. 

Just  tell  them  Scoggins,  I’ve  considered, 

And  this  is  the  thing  that  I’ll  do: 

They  are  getting  more  money  now, 

Than  the  consumers  we  are  selling  to; 

I  want  to  be  fair  to  every  one, 

But  I’m  here  to  fight  for  the  unorganized  mass, 

And  I’ll  make  no  contract  detrimental, 

To  those  to  whom  the  expense  I  pass. 

So  many  of  the  unions  today 
Are  looking  out  only  for  themselves; 

They  think  not  of  justice  being  done; 

Just  so  they  get  theirs,  no  matter  who  it  compels; 

The  nation  seems  to  care  only  for  the  strong; 

The  states  are  not  otherwise; 

The  odds  and  ends  that  make  up  the  bulk, 

Are  the  unrepresented  who  pay  for  the  enterprise; 

I  do  not  propose  to  pass  the  load, 

Unless  it  is  fair  thus  to  proceed; 

Let  those  fellows  show  what  they  are  made  of. 

And  whether  they  are  full  of  zeal,  or  greed. 


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97 


I  propose  to  sell  them  the  plant 
At  the  bed-rock  invoice  price; 

And  let  them  run  it  as  they  will, 

And  learn  how  to  accomplish; 

Of  course,  I  will  take  their  notes, 

But  they  will  have  insurance  to  pay; 

And  the  interest  at  six  per  cent. 

Aggregate  whatever  it  may; 

Depreciation  is  going  on, 

And  ten  per  cent  of  wages  should  be  withheld. 

So  the  notes  will  be  paid  when  due, 

Lest  to  foreclose  I  am  compelled. 

Rejecting  this,  if  sixty  per  cent  continue, 

At  the  present  salary  and  wages. 

Let  them  work  and  protect  them  well, 

If  they  have  to  wear  officer’s  badges. 

It  seems  today  men  are  so  dishonest. 

They  think  they  own  a  job; 

If  some  union  leader  tells  them  to  strike, 

No  man  can  take  their  place,  “Their  wives  and  children  to 
rob.” 

If  one  man  strikes,  and  another  comes  in, 

His  pay  and  place  to  take, 

He  is  in  no  wise  a  lesser  man, 

Who  thus  would  provender  make. 

Let  them  know,  Scoggins,  and  come  again; 

If  they  all  strike,  close  the  mill  down; 

I  cannot  run  the  place  without  help, 

And  I  cannot  run  it  with  such  help  as  I  have  found. 

I  hope  the  world  will  forgive  me, 

If  I’m  too  hard  on  those  poor  fellows; 

They  are  like  a  lot  of  cattle, 

They  follow  any  bull  that  bellows; 

A  man  should  know  who  works  for  mo, 

He  cannot  be  loyal  to  but  one  boss; 


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I  pay  him  for  his  work, 

Still  he  pays  a  union  my  plans  to  cross; 

If  I  were  not  generous  with  them, 

Showing  them  every  detail, 

There  might  be  some  excuse  for  this; 
l  strive  to  win  them,  still  I  fail; 

Such  people  are  so  used  to  being  duped, 

They  insist  on  it  all  the  time; 

Here  I  am  teaching  them,  leading  them, 

And  they  turn  to  a  union  leader,  and  me  decline; 
It  seems  to  be  human  nature 
To  follow  the  laws  of  affinity; 

My  honest  efforts  to  them  look  crooked, 

And  that  crook  to  them  looks  benignity; 

When  men  rush  after  delusion, 

And  fall  by  leaders  who  deceive, 

There  is  an  affinity  which  draws  them  on, 
Between  them  and  the  ones  they  believe. 

“Father,  I  pray  Thee,  throughout  this  day; 
Help  me  to  do  Thy  will; 

Let  nothing  whatever  engage  my  time, 

Unless  it  be  Thy  will  to  fulfill; 

Let  me  be  found  serving  only  Thee, 

In  every  small  proceeding; 

And  following  it  more  devoted, 

Help  me  to  continue  each  day  succeeding.” 

I’ll  do  anything  reasonable  to  win  them  back, 
Always  willing  to  forgive, 

But  if  they  can  live  without  the  truth, 

Without  them  I  can  live. 

Ar.  enemy  hath  done  this,  some  enemy  of  the  right, 
And  a  common  enemy  of  all  mankind; 

When  people  are  following  false  leaders, 

They  are  enemies  of  themselves, 

As  well  as  humanity  they  will  find. 


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99 


We  cannot  enjoy  more  than  we  earn, 

Even  though  the  system  is  complex; 

And  the  humblest  laborer  in  this  plant, 

Is  invited  to  review  the  whole  text; 

So  every  employer  should  strive, 

With  statements  and  figures  true, 

To  show  where  the  money  is  coming  from, 

And  to  whom  it  is  going  to. 

The  ignorant  cannot  understand  it, 

But  they  are  baffled  and  confused, 

When  false  leaders  come  along, 

If  they  follow  them,  they  are  not  excused. 

Let  every  man  have  an  opportunity  to  serve; 
There  is  plenty  of  work  to  be  done; 

And  prorate  the  service  with  equity, 

To  all  who  carry  the  work  on. 

I  have  taught  them  to  save  everything, 

Of  time,  opportunity,  and  material; 

There  is  nothing  containing  energy. 

Which  cannot  be  used  to  benefit  the  weal; 

The  odds  and  ends  and  scraps. 

Can  be  turned  to  something  of  value; 

So  every  man  is  taught  to  store  his  time; 

As  well  as  a  part  of  his  salary; 

Each  man  during  spare  moments. 

Should  be  learning  some  other  job, 

So  when  a  man  ahead  drops  out, 

The  machine  moves  on  without  stop. 

Waste  materials  of  no  service  to  me, 

Is  placed  to  most  suitable  vantage, 

For  those  who  can  use  them, 

Thus  avoiding  a  little  sabotage. 

No  use  of  tobacco  is  permitted  at  work, 

On  account  of  danger  of  fire; 

And  spitting  adds  filth  to  the  place; 

We  do  not  employ  those  who  the  habit  acquire; 
The  vices  of  men  are  so  many, 


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Some  men  are  vices  a  mass; 

And  each  little  vice  is  a  law  to  him, 

Making  rules  where  he  cannot  pass; 

The  poor  fellow  is  so  encumbered, 

With  laws  of  his  own  design, 

That  if  you  employ  one  of  them, 

He  has  no  place  for  your  rules  in  his  mind. 

They  get  the  habit  of  tobacco, 

And  then  acquire  that  of  drink, 

And  taken  with  other  nuisances, 

They  cause  the  place  to  stink; 

So  let  the  men  with  vices 
Remain  outside  the  gate; 

If  we  cannot  find  men  who  stick  to  honor, 

We  will  do  what  we  can,  and  wait. 

It  is  a  long  hard  fight  to  move  masses, 

To  the  ways  of  action  and  thought; 

But  once  they  see  the  goal, 

They’ll  move  when  their  souls  they  have  bought. 
The  meddling  leaders,  damned  by  justice, 

Who  oppose  the  thought  of  right, 

Are  then  men  I  aim  for  a  target; 

They  can  be  overcome  only  through  might; 

They  cannot  well  fight  against  truth, 

Since  truth  they  cannot  use, 

So  they  fall  into  their  usual  course, 

Of  calumny  and  abuse. 

If  a  common  man  had  a  mind 
To  reason  and  understand, 

He  could  see  through  the  methods  of  such, 

And  get  from  under  their  hand; 

The  trouble  is  the  common  man  is  a  little  crooked, 
And  wants  what  he  doe#  not  earn, 

So  any  glib  tongue  with  a  few  promises, 

Can  sway  him  to  most  any  turn; 

After  he  is  soaked  with  suspicion, 


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101 


He  believes  nothing  from  the  source  of  truth; 
His  reason  ceases  to  function, 

And  he  is  lost  to  himself  forsooth. 

Will: 

Hello,  Helen,  how  are  you? 

When  did  you  come  in? 

You  look  like  a  breath  of  sweetness, 

With  that  nonchalant  grin. 

I  came  in  this  morning  from  papa; 

I’ve  been  out  there  for  awhile, 

Hearing  you  fret  about  little  things, 

That  should  provoke  only  a  smile. 

Now  open  up  a  little  and  let  me  sit  down, 
And  I’ll  give  you  a  hug  and  a  kiss, 

And  tell  you  a  few  ways  to  overcome 
Such  difficulties  as  this. 

Don’t  resist  evil  with  evil, 

But  overcome  evil  with  good; 

Add  truth  where  truth  is  lacking, 

With  love  enough  to  make  it  understood; 

These  little  strikes  and  fusses, 

All  go  in  the  care  of  the  day, 

So  every  night  forget  it  all, 

Tomorrow  will  show  a  better  way; 

These  folks  are  only  children, 

Today  they  are  deceived  and  misled; 

But  they  will  learn  those  mockers 
Cannot  give  them  their  butter  and  bread; 

Just  wait  with  patience,  hold  steady; 

They  will  all  come  back  in  a  bunch; 

When  they  do  let  us  be  ready 
To  give  them  new  life  with  a  punch. 

Men,  you  know,  must  strike  sometimes, 

As  all  bosses  are  not  so  honest  and  true; 

And  take  advantage  of  their  helplessness, 

To  withhold  from  them  their  due. 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Helen,  dear,  life  is  pleasant  now; 

Let’s  forget  about  all  these  worries, 

And  dream  of  things  as  they  ought  to  be, 

Without  their  annoying  hurries. 

It  seems  to  me  there  should  be  a  perfect  relation 
Between  the  affairs  of  the  mind, 

And  these  lower  elements  of  matter, 

Over  which  there  is  such  a  struggle  by  mankind; 

I  suspect  there  is  a  storm  in  the  spirit  world, 

That  agitates  life  here  below, 

And  when  the  victory  there  is  won, 

The  struggle  from  here  will  go; 

Energy  has  so  many  ways  moving  from  the  sun 
Through  the  affairs  of  men, 

It  is  not  easy  for  us  to  know, 

The  way,  the  beginning,  or  the  end; 

There  is  the  electro-magnetic,  light; 

The  minerals,  vegetables,  and  the  animals; 

Upon  these  the  kingdoms  above  are  built, 

Including  soul,  mind  and  their  annals; 

Energy  contributes  to  atoms, 

Through  a  complicated  form  of  balancing ; 

And  atoms  contribute  to  molecules, 

Between  all  of  which  electrons  are  prancing; 

These  molecules  grow  more  complex, 

Until  at  last  they  unite  to  form  cells; 

Each  little  cell  a  universe  by  itself, 

And  the  history  of  the  creation  tells. 

When  this  state  of  the  creation  is  reached, 

With  all  attractions  and  counter-attractions  weighed, 
It  starts  in  again  to  recapitulate, 

Until  multiplied  cells  an  individual  has  made. 

In  the  human  this  individual  divides 
Into  the  male  and  female  form, 

Each  balanced  and  weighed  against  the  other, 

To  enable  it  to  weather  every  storm. 


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103 


This  force  branches  out  from  a  center  somewhere; 

One  might  as  well  call  it  God; 

And  has  no  conflict  until  we  get  to  the  place, 

Where  human  reason  has  trod; 

The  man  comes  in  with  his  whims  and  plans, 

Made  free  as  the  infinite  word, 

And  starts  a  war  we  might  say,  with  his  neighbor  in  a  way. 
Living  on  the  extreme  circumference  of  God. 

Now  the  cause  of  this  war  we  may  not  see, 

Thinking  it  is  this,  or  that; 

But  really  the  cause  may  not  be  here, 

But  in  the  spirit  world  where  we  are  at. 

At  any  rate,  out  of  this  war, 

Peace  eventually  will  emerge; 

Then  growth  and  life,  guided  by  truth, 

Forward  again  into  new  spheres  we’ll  surge. 

So  God  is  at  the  heart,  as  here  at  the  rim, 

It  is  He,  Himself,  that  is  moving  on; 

Only  we  are  the  cells  in  His  infinite  life. 

If  we  are  serving  and  eschewing  wrong; 

Now  why  should  such  storms  rage  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
When  there  is  room  enough  for  all? 

It  is  this:  They  would  rather  sit  down  here  and  die. 

Than  with  life  to  keep  moving  on; 

We  must  live  and  grow,  or  stop  and  die. 

We  cannot  do  both  you  see; 

So  men  dissipate  and  run  themselves  down. 

Then  die  and  cease  to  be; 

That  is,  they  cease  in  the  order  of  man, 

But  the  energy,  life,  material  and  all, 

Continue  the  course,  as  ever  before, 

Disassociated  from  that  man’s  fall; 

Now  if  all  human  kind  would  seek  to  serve, 

There  would  be  work  enough  to  go  around; 

And  the  parasites  would  fall  by  weight  of  their  load, 

As  no  one  to  carry  it  could  be  found 


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Let  no  man  serve  in  anything, 

Save  where  the  use  he  sees; 

And  let  his  service  be  at  that  place 
He  can  relieve  the  greatest  disease. 

If  things  get  moving  in  this  way, 

And  all  seek  to  do  no  wrong, 

We  shall  be  sailing  an  untroubled  sea, 

And  the  time  will  not  be  long; 

Peace  will  settle  down  like  quiet  over  the  waves, 

When  the  wind  ceases  to  blow, 

And  every  man’s  effort  can  all  be  spent 
In  service;  not  maintaing  his  ego; 

In  this  way  men  soon  quit  walking  around, 

And  gradually  all  get  on  wheels; 

The  time  goes  and  perfection  grows, 

Till  they  all  know  how  flying  feels. 

Each  step  of  this  progress  becomes  more  profound, 
As  we  leave  the  center  of  the  wheel; 

The  circumference  grows  and  we  cover  more  ground, 
And  we  multiply  actions  and  deals. 

As  action  increases  and  thought  increases, 

Many  men  will  cease  much  to  move; 

As  time  goes  on  love  grows  more  strong, 

New  species  are  developed  above; 

They  have  the  speed  of  light,  and  move  by  sight, 

And  cover  in  the  glance  of  an  eye, 

More  space  in  a  second  than  some  in  a  year, 

Yet  see  everything  as  they  go  by; 

But  whether  they  be  as  those  who  all  see, 

And  never  move  from  the  spot, 

(As  those  who  move  never  love, 

They  are  all  of  the  Infinite  begot)  ; 

God  is  a  fact  of  infinite  act, 

With  attributes  manifold  and  true, 

Such  as  time  and  space,  motion, 

Agree  in  all  that  He  do; 

When  He  creates  an  entity  in  time, 

With  little  space  to  consume, 


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105 


He  has  such  a  thing  as  an  ant  or  a  man, 

That  no  great  motion  presume; 

When  he  creates  a  spirit  for  light, 

That  has  little  with  time  to  reckon, 

In  space  he  is  long,  in  time  scant, 

He  is  there  whenever  you  beckon; 

Now  combining  the  two  in  one, 

We  shall  have  such  a  being  as  we  shall  be; 

While  he  lives  in  one  place  long, 

He  is  permitted  wide  space  to  see; 

So  the  faculty  of  hearing  or  feeling  may  be, 

To  reach  as  far  and  wide  as  the  other; 

Then  we  may  hear  and  feel  as  far  as  we  will, 

Without  the  moving  to  bother. 

Such  is  our  Creator,  who  is  developing  Hii  plans, 

For  growth  and  fulfilling  onward; 

And  since  there  is  no  end,  it  did  not  begin, 

We  have  but  only  to  move  forward; 

Now  that  light  makes  no  end  to  sight, 

And  things  as  before,  increase  in  inverse  ratios, 

The  chief  duty  here  is  watch  and  revere, 

And  complete  our  work  before  each  day  goes. 

Helen : 

Dear,  you  have  made  it  so  plain,  I  cannot  see  a  thing, 
And  now  if  you  have  finished  your  lecture. 

I’ll  go  read  a  book,  and  see  if  the  cook, 

Is  supplied,  lest  something  should  vex  her. 


XXX 


Secretary : 

Tell  me,  Mr.  Will,  the  secret  of  success; 
I  mean  to  acquire  material  things  around; 
How  to  get  possession  of  all  one  needs, 
And  of  legal  violations  not  be  found? 


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Well,  George,  you  can  see  there  are  only  a  few  rules 
To  govern  the  proceedings  of  life; 

The  first  thing  is  speak  the  truth,  and  to  yourself  be  true, 
And  then  choose  a  good  wife. 

All  material  things  worth  while 
Are  valued  by  the  labor  it  took, 

To  put  them  in  shape  to  serve, 

And  maintenance  of  the  outlook; 

A  house  is  to  be  valued  in  hours, 

Of  the  men  who  built  it  there, 

Together  with  the  hours  of  labor 

To  make  and  bring  material  from  everywhere; 

The  value  of  the  ground  of  course 
Is  a  thing  a  little  aside, 

As  men  value  location  for 
The  opportunities  over  it  preside; 

One  lot  is  valued  highly 
By  the  time  of  the  passerby, 

While  another  is  more  valued 

For  the  money,  or  other  riches,  it  is  nigh; 

Money  is  only  the  proxy  of  labor, 

As  the  law  sets  the  value  of  gold, 

By  the  time  it  takes  men 
To  get  it  out  of  a  hole; 

If  tomorrow  they  struck  gold, 

So  a  man  could  get  out  a  ton  a  day. 

The  value  of  gold  comes  down, 

And  law-makers  are  in  a  bad  way; 

So  things  are  valuable 

For  the  time  it  takes  men  to  produce; 

And  gamblers  and  crooks  who  produce  not, 

Are  needless,  and  a  living  excuse. 

So  the  secrt  of  material  success, 

Is  value  all  men’s  time  right; 

And  save  from  your  own  exertions. 

Something  from  each  day’s  might; 

When  thus  you  have  accumulated, 


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107 


Put  it  to  service  for  profit, 

As  your  labor  in  producing  wealth, 

Is  worth  something  to  those  who  live  off  it; 
As  this  little  stream  goes, 

Accumulating  as  it  moves  on, 

So  material  wealth  grows. 

And  becomes  a  river  before  it  is  done; 
Industry  floats  on  the  surface  of  it, 

And  its  power  moves  wheels, 

So  that  it  blesses  all  whom  it  serves, 

And  drowns  the  man  who  steals. 

Men  who  live  in  this  river. 

Like  fish  in  the  sea. 

Are  used  to  the  environment, 

And  that  is  their  place  to  be; 

Thieves  would  live  in  it  at  times, 

To  find  their  souls  cannot  breathe; 

The  thought  of  wealth  stifles  their  mind, 
And  they  are  found  not  fish,  but  thieves. 
Wealth  is  a  simple  thing; 

It  represents  the  sweat  and  toil  of  man; 
Either  producing  the  wealth  himself. 

Or  producing  the  machinery,  which  can. 


XXXI 


WilT: 

The  years  fly  fast  with  a  man 
Serving  his  fellows  while  lie  can; 
More  than  fifty  summers  have  passed. 
And  still  I  am  young  and  fast. 


There  comes  Will,  Jr.,  from  college  decreed, 
A  master  of  some  kind  of  art; 

I  don’t  care  so  much  for  the  degree, 

But  that  he  honestly  do  his  part. 

Well,  young  fellow,  you  are  starting  now, 
A  race  to  show  your  worth; 

Of  course  I  am  proud  of  you,  my  son, 


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And  the  mother  who  gave  you  birth; 

But  life  means  much  more,  boy, 

Than  the  love  of  your  parents  and  friends; 

We  show  that  we  are  worth  while, 

For  our  own  account  match  the  ends; 

I  cannot  tell  you  a  thing  to  help  you, 

Except  what  I  have  taught  you  long; 

It  is  up  to  you  alone  to  make  good, 

And  make  battle  with  the  strong; 

It  will  not  be  well  to  over-rate  your  strength, 

And  tackle  the  toughest  fight, 

But  gain  by  experience  from  making  way, 

A  day  at  a  time,  at  length. 

Temperance  is  a  wonderful  word, 

But  it  should  not  be  misapplied; 

The  temperate  man  may  need  urging  on, 

Lest  a  stalemate  gets  him  tied; 

We  may  be  intemperate  in  the  use  of  words, 

Or  deeds,  or  nature’s  gifts; 

The  misuse  of  anything  is  not  intemperance, 

But  a  crossing  of  nature’s  shifts; 

Some  men  drink  and  chew, 

What  to  them  is  repulsive  at  first; 

But  continuing  the  malpractice, 

Perversion  establishes  false  thirst; 

It  takes  pitch  and  time  in  melody, 

But  before  these  we  must  have  the  sound; 

So  in  tempering  ourselves  to  life, 

Let  prudence,  and  not  license,  set  the  bound. 

Dad,  I  don’t  care  about  those  things; 

Toward  naughty  girls  and  vices  and  wine, 

For  stealing  and  gambling  and  such, 

Or  intemperance  I  do  not  incline; 

Where  I  need  a  hand  and  lift, 

How  to  think  in  my  mind; 

I  should  like  to  go  like  the  wind. 

Over  fields  of  brier,  and  obstacles  of  every  kind; 


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109 


I  get  stuck  in  the  mud,  like  the  turtle; 

For  some  cause  I  cannot  feel  myself  going  anywhere; 
What  I  would  like  is  to  find  a  way 
To  solve  these  problems  beyond  my  care. 

Will: 

People  think  like  the  animals  move; 

Some  of  them  drag  around  like  the  snail, 

They  move  slowly  in  small  space, 

If  they  meet  any  difficulty,  they  fail; 

Others  think  about  fast  enough, 

But  like  the  hare,  they  know  not  where,  or  how  to  go; 
They  spend  their  lives  pretty  close  to  home, 

Though  their  speed  is  by  no  means  slow; 

The  fox  type  of  mind  is  searching, 

With  a  good  deal  of  speed  and  care. 

But  his  need  holds  his  search  for  food. 

So  he  never  goes  very  far; 

The  serpent  type  of  mind  avoids  the  view, 

Of  any  who  might  be  in  sight, 

He  knows  every  one  is  his  enemy, 

But  would  not  be  if  he  stopped  his  bite; 

The  bird  type  of  mind,  as  the  eagle, 

Sees  a  great  deal  of  the  wmrld; 

But  his  work  never  amounts  to  anything, 

Because  his  flag  is  never  furled; 

He  is  moving  all  the  time  and  makes  enemies, 

Which  if  he  settled  down  to  work  he  would  not  do, 
As  he  would  then  make  friends  instead, 

Treating  others  as  ye  would  they  treat  you. 

Mind,  you  see  from  this  has  a  motive, 

And  the  motive  is  the  force  which  bears  it  on; 

So  if  the  force  is  centered  in  yourself, 

You  will  not  from  yourself  long  be  gone; 

Some  men’s  force  centers  in  a  tragedy, 

As  the  breaking  of  a  home  or  a  nation; 

Then  they  only  go  far  enough  to  justify 
Themselves  in  their  assumed  position; 


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Some  men  have  their  center  in  a  mill, 

A  store,  an  office,  or  factory; 

The  distance  of  their  thoughts  never  go, 

Beyond  the  necessity  to  be. 

So  you  see  in  the  secrets  of  right  thinking, 

Is  laid  the  force  that  bears  you  on; 

If  you  expect  to  describe  a  small  circle, 

The  fibre  of  your  mind  need  not  be  long; 

But  if  you  would  think  with  the  universe, 

Arise  high  enough  to  catch  the  stream; 

The  power  that  holds  all  things  in  subjection, 

And  bears  down  all  things  that  are  not  what  they  seem. 

Thus  the  force  of  the  universe  provides  all  things  com¬ 
mon, 

As  air,  water,  land,  all  have  been, 

But  men  began  staking  off  some  measure, 

And  refuse  all  others  right  therein; 

When  maintained,  the  universal  becomes  that  of  men, 

As  far  as  they  are  able  to  circle  about, 

But  beyond  the  reach  of  man's  circle, 

The  universal  law  is  holding  out. 

When  man  has  fully  conquered  present  places, 

He  will  build  on  that  and  venture  higher, 

As  man’s  ambition  knows  no  limit, 

Between  absolute  cold  and  infinite  fire. 

Will,  Jr.: 

While  I  am  graduate  of  medicine  and  law, 

The  practice  of  either  I  shall  not  hold  fast, 

But  commencing  in  the  factory  at  the  bottom, 

I  wish  to  master  human  nature  to  the  last; 

I  shall  seek  to  supervise  and  befriend, 

Every  man  who  needs  my  aid, 

And  when  I  am  become  to  your  estate, 

I  shall  have  help  of  the  friends  I  have  made. 

Beginning  thus,  and  looking  always  onward. 


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I  expect  a  great  work  to  do; 

In  this  I  am  getting  your  experience, 

As  my  foundation,  and  building  on  you. 

XXXII 

Helen: 

Your  father  and  I,  dear  children. 

Wish  you  to  know  life  from  the  beginning, 

That  your  crop  of  happiness  may  be  full. 

And  that  you  may  avoid  the  ways  of  sinning; 

So  bow  your  ears,  my  sweets, 

To  what  your  mother  wishes; 

As  life  is  full  of  mischance, 

Never  lean  on  mere  promises. 

This  young  man  at  the  grocery, 

Is  a  liar,  with  subtle  mien; 

So  iet  no  covered  conversation, 

With  such  a  one  ever  be  seen. 

It  is  more  difficult  for  women  now, 

Than  in  the  days  when  they  did  much  toil. 

As  they  have  a  bounty  of  energy, 

With  time  and  opportunity,  and  a  temper  to  foil; 
It  behooves  us  to  think  circumspectly; 

To  act  it  only  will  not  do, 

As  the  thought  precedes  the  action, 

As  the  thought  leans,  so  later  action  will  do; 
Our  thoughts  are  like  to  tops  of  trees, 

Which  bear  leaves  in  the  spring. 

We  feel  not  their  weight  in  the  calm. 

But  they  pull  mightily  with  the  wind; 

So  our  calm  desire  and  reflection. 

We  feel  not  their  strength  in  seclusion, 

But  when  the  winds  of  passion  are  blowing, 

It  is  with  great  effort  we  avoid  confusion. 

Know  well  that  you  are  a  queen. 

Wearing  garlands  of  virtue  and  truth. 

And  from  all  men  expect  recognition, 


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But  let  them  tempt  not  your  youth; 

There  is  a  force  of  attraction  between  sexes, 
That  cultured,  adds  quality  to  your  good, 

But  perversion  will  make  it  a  fiend. 

Of  fretful,  unsatisfied,  and  sensual  mood; 

It  thus  serves  parents  a  good  turn, 

To  lead  their  fondling  along  in  peace, 
Instilling  the  gospel  of  service, 

Which  in  later  years  will  never  cease. 

Your  lives  should  revolve  around  your  aim, 
The  center  of  which  is  to  do  right; 

That  aim  and  your  God  is  the  same; 

Your  aim  becomes  the  arbiter  of  your  sight; 
Thus  a  new  object  you  have  in  view; 

You  look  for  a  track  to  your  life, 

To  open  and  let  it  come  to  you; 

If  a  man,  aim  to  be  a  good  wife. 

Or  perhaps  your  wifely  portion  is  filled, 

Or  you  desire  it  not  so, 

Then  let  aim  serve  some  good  will, 

And  on  that  strive  to  bestow. 

When  through  time  and  action  of  the  days, 

To  full  womanhood  you  are  brought. 

To  the  calm  and  evenness  of  your  ways, 

More  bearing  may  be  added  by  thought. 
Though  now  you  be  fair  and  good, 

By  nature  you  will  also  be  strong, 

And  such  strength  that  may  find  work, 

In  overthrowing  the  forces  of  wrong. 

Not  with  mighty  strokes  and  dashes, 

But  with  cool  and  sane  deliberation, 

Determine  for  what  you  are  for, 

Thus  avoiding  evil  men’s  desperation; 

Toe  often  we  let  our  strength 
To  be  spent  only  to  oppose, 

Which  is  Satan’s  way  of  canceling  good 
With  evil  things  every  one  knows. 

We  may  oppose  evil  with  calm  mention, 


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113 


But  not  with  spleen  and  might. 

As  violent  effort  agitates  wrong. 

Conveying  energy  to  wrong  from  the  right; 

It  is  better  to  let  wrong  settle  down. 

By  neglect  if  it  be  negative; 

But  to  militant  unrighteous  force, 

Man  needs  to  apply  a  regulative. 

Thus  evil  is  overcome  by  good, 

And  wrong  is  allowed  to  grow  stale; 

Lacking  action  it  lacks  life. 

And  its  votaries  soon  will  fail. 

All  evil  may  thus  be  combated, 

And  when  they  are  quiet  once. 

Begin  drawing  away  their  forces, 

With  suitable  means  of  deliverance. 

Such  is  woman’s  work  and  wisdom, 

But  for  a  leader  a  man  we  need, 

Since  life’s  fight  is  masculine. 

And  as  leader  requires  a  steed. 

That  brings  up  the  question 
Of  our  relation  to  the  men. 

Which  cannot  be  but  honest; 

More  than  that  is  sin. 

Honesty  needs  no  cover; 

Indeed,  the  language  should  be  without  a  word. 
That  cannot  be  written  and  published, 

In  winning  the  victory  in  the  battle  of  the  Lord. 
Through  all  this  conflict 
We  must  need  ask  none  to  forgive, 

But  forgiveness  should  be  with  you. 

To  extend  to  all  the  spirit  bids  to  live; 

When  it  is  necessary  to  apologize, 

Or  beg  forgiveness  one  time, 

Our  days  of  glory  are  ended, 

And  we  must  cease  for  the  heights  to  climb; 

The  world  is  exacting  of  leaders, 


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And  the  point  must  be  without  blame, 

For  once  the  point  is  blunted, 

It  is  never  again  the  same; 

It  is  then  that  falsehood  steps  in, 

And  strives  to  maintain  place, 

By  putting  imitation  glory, 

Like  paint  upon  the  face; 

No  lie  is  permitted  in  heaven, 

And  all  who  would  thus  get  by, 

Will  find  the  keeper  waiting 
With  a  fierce  stare  in  his  eye; 

Since  truth  is  the  main  thing  in  life, 

We  must  fortify  ourselves, 

For  conquest  and  victory, 

With  that  which  falsehood  dispels; 

But  if  you  fall,  don’t  canker, 

There  is  forgiveness  in  the  grave; 

And  many  years  of  service, 

With  credit  and  honor  is  left  to  the  brave. 

It  takes  a  brave  woman  to  face  calumny, 
Especially  when  truth  testifies, 

And  any  woman  who  can  say:  yes  I  did, 

Is  better  than  a  dozen  who  lie. 

After  all,  Heaven  and  Hell  stand  guard, 
Over  the  gates  to  the  eternal, 

And  most  of  humanity  finds 
Its  way  to  the  infernal; 

But  the  fight  is  worth  while,  if  we  win, 

Which  we  will  not  unless  we  try, 

Therefore  gird  your  armour  on, 

And  make  strong  resolution  to  win,  or  die. 

Will  Charlmain  died  today, 

At  the  age  of  one  hundred  and  ninety-eight; 
He  always  said  a  man  would  never  die, 

If  he  kept  all  the  rules  of  fate; 

That  may  be  true,  it  is  up  to  you, 

Your  cells  of  life  to  renew, 

By  service  good,  and  sin  avoid, 

As  every  one  ought  to  do. 


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CONCORD  TRIUMPHANT. 

CHAPTER  1 

There  is  a  great  commotion  in  the  ivorld  of  thought ; 
Something  like  a  fire  has  broken  out; 

A  mighty  superstition  has  gone  wrong ; 

A  thing  which  down  through  the  ages  brought 
As  a  fact,  the  truth  has  been  learned  about; 

All  minds  built  falsely  will  feel  the  blaze  ere  long. 

From  mine  and  forest,  mill  and  field. 

All  manner  of  material  things  are  gathered. 

To  the  service  and  use  of  all  mankind; 

But  justice  has  not  been  the  shield. 

Of  those  who  ruled ,  and  thoughts  of  distribution  fathered, 
When  they  arranged  the  service  in  their  mind. 

CHAPTER  2 

I  was  sitting  in  the  garden, 

With  little  Virginia  playing  by  me; 

As  she  dug  she  found  a  piece  of  toy, 

Like  to  which  we  no  more  see; 

She  asked  me  why  little  girls  do  not  play 
With  these  any  more  as  they  did; 

We  both  fell  asleep  in  the  hammock, 

But  of  the  subject  I  was  not  rid. 

I  heard  a  great  commotion 
Come  rushing  over  the  trees; 

A  chariot  drawn  by  four  great  steeds, 

Was  passing  on  the  breeze; 

A  little  maid  of  about  seven, 

Leaned  out  and  beckoned  me  to  ride; 

Apparently  she  had  come  from  heaven, 

And  I  got  in  by  her  side. 


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In  a  jiffy  we  were  in  a  city, 

In  front  of  a  blacksmith  shop, 

Where  Avary  Montis  is  using  a  sledge, 

And  sons,  Simp  and  Absul,  let  the  iron  drop. 

The  hot  end  caught  Avary  in  the  stomach, 

And  took  down  his  pants  as  it  went, 

Burning  a  strip  of  shoe  off, 

And  on  his  knee  he  makes  Absul  repent. 

t 

These  Montises  are  a  bunch  of  rubbish, 

That  live  like  the  stock  in  the  barn; 

They  eat  and  sleep,  and  seldom  wash, 

Either  person;  or  clothes,  till  they  are  fully  worn; 
Virginia  says,  (as  she  seems  to  be  the  maid,) 

These  people  are  simple  workers,  not  so  bad; 

But  of  course  they  will  be  sometime, 

Unless  deliverance  from  their  ignorance  is  had. 

Avary  is  forty;  stock  and  strong; 

He  thinks  water  was  made  to  cool  hot  iron; 

While  Cary,  his  wife,  is  different, 

She  thinks  it  is  to  put  in  the  beans  before  they  burn. 
Simp,  seventeen,  and  Absul,  fifteen, 

Are  neither  sure  what  it  is  for, 

But  Absul  uses  it  sometimes, 

As  he  dreams  of  fine  clothes  and  a  car. 

With  black  hair  and  eyes,  of  a  slender  build, 

He  will  grow  up  to  be  the  raven, 

Among  gentle  birds  of  song  and  service, 

To  bar  their  way  to  heaven; 

He  has  a  liking  for  art, 

And  tries  at  school  to  learn  it; 

He  will  paint,  and  work,  and  do  his  best. 

Consider  he  has  failed,  and  burn  it. 

He  rushes  to  mama  to  console, 

As  he  still  feels  where  papa  made  him  burn; 

She  has  supper  ready  and  urges  him 
To  get  dad  and  Simp  and  return. 

They  all  sat  down  with  their  dirty  hands, 

Except  Absul,  who  is  washed  and  combed, 


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117 


But  Simp  rubs  his  dirt  on  him, 

And  mussed  his  hair,  while  he  moaned; 

Down  on  the  floor  and  out  in  the  yard, 

They  wrestle  until  Absul  is  done; 

Back  to  the  table  to  eat  they  go, 

Laughing  and  jolly,  all  the  dirt  still  on. 

CHAPTER  3 

We  pass  a  farm  house  at  milking  time, 

Ruth  Klammer,  twelve,  at  her  work; 

She  is  engaged  in  milking,  and  she  hates  it, 

She  would  like  this  job  to  shirk; 

Her  beautiful  golden  locks, 

Blowing  in  the  wind, 

And  her  fair  blue  eyes, 

Match  well  her  delicate  skin; 

That  old  calf  is  bigger  than  she, 

And  is  hard  to  move  about; 

He  wants  to  stay  and  drink  all  the  milk, 

While  Ruth  whips  him  and  runs  him  out. 

Ruth  has  a  friend  in  David  Humbert; 

David  is  light  and  fair  too; 

She  does  not  like  fair  people  though, 

And  is  not  sure  that  David  will  do; 

My  little  nymph  later  leads  me  in, 

To  show  me  their  home  and  ways; 

Here  are  father  and  mother  sleeping  on  one  bed; 
This  room  is  where  Ruth  stays; 

Here  she  lies  on  her  little  bed, 

The  weather  is  warm  and  she  is  out; 

Hair  flowing  free,  breast  beginning  to  swell, 

And  arms  and  legs  lying  about; 

Lying  there  she  looks  like  a  fairy, 

Entirely  too  good  to  be  true; 

With  her  ambition  striving  for  its  way, 

We  shall  see  what  she  can  do; 

Two  each,  younger  brothers  and  sisters  Ruth  has, 


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But  they  are  mostly  trouble  to  her, 

As  when  she  tries  to  study  her  singing, 

They  are  playing  around  full  of  cheer. 

CHAPTER  4 

David  is  sixteen  and  might  be  useful. 

If  his  father  could  keep  him  busy  at  home, 

But  David’s  mind  lives  at  Ruth’s  house, 

Where  he  is  ever  planning  to  come; 

He  helps  her  with  her  milking  and  the  chickens, 

He  handles  that  calf  like  a  lamb, 

When  it  is  time  to  take  him  away, 

He  leads  him  to  the  gate  and  gives  him  a  ram; 

When  the  chores  are  finished  he  tires  her, 

As  he  wants  to  stay  and  hang  over  the  gate; 

Of  course  she  does  not  like  to  be  discourteous, 

So  she  on  the  other  side  will  wait; 

He  holds  her  in  such  awe  that  he  fears  much  speaking, 
Lest  he  say  something  she  thinks  wrong, 

So  he  stands  and  waits  with  a  silly  grin, 

Some  word  from  her  to  ring  his  heart  like  a  gong; 

He  is  not  much  in  learning  yet, 

But  he  knows  to  win  her  he  must  wait, 

As  she  has  some  other  place  for  her  heart, 

Just  as  she  wishes  to  be  elsewhere  but  the  gate; 

Ruth  is  building  in  her  heart  for  a  career; 

With  her  voice  she  hopes  to  win  applause. 

And  she  tries  in  her  mind  to  think  things  dear, 

Which  lend  their  help  in  her  voice’s  cause. 

CHAPTER  5 

Simp  and  Absul  have  opened  a  cafe, 

And  they  are  jealous  already  over  the  duties; 

Absul  wants  Simp  to  do  all  the  cooking. 

While  he  collects  the  money  and  watches  the  beauties; 
For  cooking  Absul  has  a  detestation, 

Equal  only  to  his  loathe  of  fire, 

And  when  his  turn  at  cooking  comes, 


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119 


Ke  thinks  only  of  when  he  can  retire; 

He  pines  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  artist; 

With  his  little  black  mustache  and  dark  face, 

He  feels  in  his  blood  a  tingling, 

That  tells  him  he  is  of  a  superior  and  proud  race. 

He  is  not  so  scrupulous  in  morals; 

He  gambles  when  he  feels  fit  to  win; 

And  usually  when  business  is  good, 

He  takes  part  of  the  cash,  and  feels  no  guilt  of  sin. 

He  has  a  dress  suit  now,  and  goes  to  dances; 

Indeed,  through  his  club  and  other  means, 

He  is  getting  a  touch  of  social  gloss, 

And  deigns  to  think  he  might  wed  one  of  the  queens. 

At  the  home  of  a  gambler  and  racing  man, 

He  is  received  as  a  man  of  good  standing, 

And  while  he  feels  they  are  not  his  equal  in  quality, 

He  is  glad  they  are  socially  commanding. 

Among  women  he  is  obsessed  of  being  magnetic, 

And  imagines  he  even  knows  their  mind, 

So  he  plays  to  flattery,  and  holding  himself  in, 

Awaiting  a  chance  to  move  up  from  behind; 

He  knows  little  of  spiritual  dynamics, 

But  he  seems  to  know  that  when  the  day, 

For  the  conquest  of  his  ambition  has  arrived, 

He  must  save  himself  up  if  he  would  have  his  way; 

In  his  scheming  for  place  and  honor. 

He  is  willing  to  pledge  his  soul, 

But  he  expects  to  make  a  bargain  with  the  devil, 

And  sell  for  the  greatest  possible  toll; 

He  has  no  scruples  about  character; 

Reputation  counts  for  everything  there; 

So  he  plans  with  all  his  ingenuity, 

To  bring  his  reputation  to  the  highest  rating  it  will  bear; 
In  gambling  he  studies  the  art  of  cheating, 

Always  planning  never  to  get  caught; 

And  in  stealing  from  their  own  cafe. 

Leaving  just  enough  to  come  out,  is  his  thought; 

For  wine  he  goes  in  very  sparingly, 


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As  he  knows  he  cannot  stand  the  pace, 

But  he  makes  every  insinuation  bear  him  out, 

That  he  drinks  a  great  deal  at  another  place. 

Poor  Simp  he  has  reduced  to  a  menial; 

He  has  managed  to  clean  him  up  some, 

But  he  does  all  the  cooking  now, 

And  is  waiting  for  the  time  for  profits  to  come; 

Simp  cannot  figure  like  Absul. 

And  when  there  is  a  question  of  money, 

Absul  has  it  all  figured  out; 

Doing  fine,  but  not  making  a  thing,  so  funny. 

CHAPTER  6 

Sometimes  for  a  day  Absul  goes  away, 

Out  in  the  country,  or  in  the  park, 

To  practice  his  painting  for  temperament, 

As  he  would  feign  to  dabble  in  art. 

On  an  occasion  he  has  his  canvas  spread, 

Before  a  beautiful  landscape  by  a  stream, 

When  Ruth  passes  along,  a  pail  on  her  arm; 

Not  berries,  but  a  career  is  her  dream. 

These  years  have  not  been  so  kind  she  thinks; 

Eighteen  and  still  her  opportunity  has  not  come; 

She  is  shocked  to  discover  near  by  a  princely  artist; 
Her  wits  deserted  her,  standing  bear-headed  in  the  sun. 

Be  not  excited  my  pretty  maid, 

I  am  as  harmless  as  a  dove; 

I  came  to  this  innocent  and  pleasant  place, 

To  catch  a  glimpse  of  nature  making  love; 

While  we  are  strangers,  I  am  sure  no  harm, 

Can  come  to  us  by  friendly  converse  by  the  road; 

As  you  can  see,  I  am  busy  with  my  work, 

Though  no  doubt  your  conscience  ill  forbode; 

Tell  me  if  I  can  get  a  lunch  close  by, 

As  I  failed  to  bring  one  with  me; 

Though  I  might  live  on  berries  one  day  and  not  die, 
Yet  I  should  rather  dine  with  thee. 


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121 


Sir,  we  can  serve  you  in  the  house  beyond  the  trees; 
Your  presence  here  I  did  not  expect, 

But  I  shall  dismiss  my  fear  of  you, 

And  go  before  I  cause  you  to  your  work  neglect. 

He  grabs  her  quickly  in  his  arms  and  steps  away, 
Leaving  her  in  worse  excitement  than  before; 

Turns  and  kills  a  copperhead  close  where  she  stood, 

And  then  would  apologize  some  more. 

She  is  full  of  indignation  at  first. 

Which  could  but  surge  back  to  her  heart; 

Her  emotions  now  are  going  around  and  around, 

And  her  reason  has  completely  lost  its  part. 

At  home  she  serves  him  in  a  dream, 

While  dad  and  mother  look  askance; 

He  is  in  no  hurry  to  get  back  to  work. 

And  Ruth  sings  at  her  piano  in  her  trance; 

He  is  not  sure  he  wishes  to  get  entangled  here, 

But  his  heart  finds  something  holding  fast; 

And  what  he  would  do  for  the  first  time, 

Is  what  his  actions  take  up  last; 

The  afternoon  goes,  time  is  due  for  leaving; 

He  persuades  her  to  walk  with  him  to  the  train, 

And  since  he  knows  not  what  to  proffers 
Her  career  comes  crawling  to  her  brain; 

He  hears  her  and  considers,  and  wonders, 

If  it  be  possible  for  him  to  succeed, 

On  her  voice  and  reputation's  earnings; 

He  will  weigh  the  matter  with  his  need. 

CHAPTER  7 

David  has  never  lost  hope  of  winning  her; 

To  do  so  he  has  studied  and  spent  much  effort; 

At  times  she  feels  kindly  toward  him  and  would  yield, 
But  her  own  ambition  stood  up  against  his  court; 

He  has  studied  electricity,  and  working, 

Saves  the  proceeds  in  furthering  his  goal; 


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Adding  bookkeeping  and  such  learning, 

To  bolster  up  the  courage  in  his  soul; 

The  farm  does  not  excite  his  spirit, 

And  to  work  where  he  can  woo  Ruth  with  him, 

Is  the  greatest  impetus  to  his  ambition; 

He  is  in  a  straight  and  knows  not  how  to  win; 

I  will  go  to  the  city  he  says, 

And  when  I  am  employed  and  settled  down. 

I  will  return  for  Ruth,  and  she  will  listen, 

As  she  can  then  seek  her  own  renown. 

He  finds  employment  in  a  factory, 

Building  machinery,  and  things  electrical; 

While  he  thus  works  and  saves  for  the  day, 

He  writes  to  Ruth,  always  aiming  at  the  practical; 

He  tells  her  of  a  home  they  can  buy  with  his  savings, 
Paying  by  the  month  for  a  part; 

And  to  convince  her  that  he  wants  her  madly, 

He  offers  everything  to  help  her  with  all  his  heart; 

He  tells  her  of  dreams  of  their  little  home, 

He  has  here  all  alone  in  his  room, 

Mentioning  the  children  they  will  have, 

And  everything  loving  his  mind  can  presume; 

He  counts  the  weeks  of  their  married  life, 

Giving  each  week  a  page  or  two, 

And  brings  her  success  into  the  crop 
Of  all  the  good  things  they  will  do; 

He  tells  her  how  her  little  sister, 

Can  stay  if  she  finds  the  need, 

And  when  she  is  successful  in  song, 

Of  the  ways  he  can  help  her  succeed; 

If  children  come,  and  they  are  in  the  way, 

Sister  can  care  for  them  for  you, 

And  you  can  continue  your  career, 

As  long  as  you  wish  to  do. 

I  expect  to  be  a  great  electrician, 

And  to  advance  with  this  concern; 

I  will  study  everything  about  the  works; 

No  job  ahead  of  me  but  I  will  learn; 


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I  will  save  my  money  and  buy  a  car, 

If  you  want  one  after  while; 

We  shall  have  no  cause  to  be  lonesome; 

Never  an  hour  need  we  beguile. 

But  my  dear,  I  go  so  far  I  fear. 

You  will  be  tired  of  contemplating; 

Only  just  come  and  be  with  me, 

And  of  our  happiness  there  shall  be  no  abating. 

I  spend  all  my  time  working  and  studying, 

Or  wTiting  each  night  to  you; 

For  each  little  letter  I  receive, 

I  am  glad  to  send  you  big  ones,  two; 

When  you  write  a  line  I  write  a  page, 

And  consider  myself  well  paid, 

Only  you  withhold  the  word, 

That  my  happiness  will  have  forever  made; 

Why  do  you  keep  holding  off,  dear, 

When  I  am  offering  so  much? 

In  fact,  everything  I  am  and  have, 

I  am  offering  for  your  touch; 

You  know  one  kiss  from  you, 

Will  give  me  the  joy  of  my  life, 

If  you  will  only  give  in  to  me  on  one  thing, 

Give  the  word  that  will  make  you  my  wife; 

If  you  do  not  say  the  word 
That  will  make  me  so  free, 

I  hardly  see  how  I  shall  spend  the  years, 

Which  I  sometimes  wish  would  not  be. 

Love  planted  early  in  my  heart  for  you, 

Has  kept  me  all  your  own, 

And  no  other  girl  would  I  put  there. 

For  fear  of  earning  your  frown; 

I  am  saving  myself  all  for  you, 

And  for  you  -will  make  any  sacrifice, 

And  though  you  never  say  “yes”  to  me, 

I  am  yours  and  shall  do  anything  at  your  advice; 
I  strive  never  to  make  a  lie, 


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Lest  by  some  means  you  I  disgrace, 

In  some  future  position  .1  be  found, 

With  that  lie  upon  my  face; 

I  never  allow  an  ill  thought  of  a  woman, 

To  creep  into  my  mind, 

Lest  it  should  be  planted  and  breed, 

Some  thought  of  you  unkind; 

As  I  go  forth  to  service, 

I  think  of  you  as  I  begin  each  piece  of  work, 

That  you  will  be  the  woman  this  will  serve, 

I  will  finish  it  with  such  skill  no  injury  can  lurk; 

In  my  work  I  am  always  looking 
For  some  improvement  I  can  make, 

As  I  want  to  make  every  woman  happy, 

Hoping  it  will  some  pleasure  to  you  take; 

Yesterday  in  perfecting  a  handle  for  a  smoothing  iron, 
I  thought  as  I  shaped  it,  as  for  you, 

And  I  carefully  made  all  measures, 

So  that  nothing  should  be  lacking  I  could  do; 

In  designing  an  electric  rocker 

For  the  babies  when  mama  is  not  nigh, 

I  sought  to  finish  a  little  machine, 

That  would  rock  a  baby  some  day  for  you  and  I; 

In  getting  out  an  electric  flashlight, 

To  hang  near  the  door,  or  in  the  car, 

I  made  the  mirror  attachment, 

So  that  you  can  see  how  beautiful  you  are. 

CHAPTER  8 

Virginia  says  Ruth  is  a  silly  girl, 

To  think  of  letting  this  man  pass, 

But  she  is  in  a  quandary, 

And  the  true  light  is  not  reaching  the  lass, 

Ruth  says  I  wish  I  had  permitted  David 
To  believe  long  years  ago, 

That  I  would  wait  for  him  always, 

And  hold  him  only  for  my  beau; 

These  years  I  have  sought  to  discourage  him, 


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Thinking  he  is  not  made  of  the  right  kind  of  stuff, 
And  now  my  pride  will  not  let  me 
Begin  to  feel  for  him,  or  make  the  way  less  rough; 
Absul  has  been  to  see  me  twice, 

And  seems  to  be  a  man  of  good  line; 

He  tells  me  about  his  cafe,  and  seven  waiters. 

And  makes  everything  look  fine; 

He  promises  to  marry  me  if  I  will  go  with  him. 
And  engage  a  master  for  my  voice; 

I  am  sure  my  ambition  will  hold  me  back, 

And  I  shall  never  be  love’s  choice; 

Still  I  love  him  with  deep  feeling; 

His  smile  and  little  black  mustache, 

All  unite  to  make  a  picture  enchanting, — 

If  I  only  knew  it  would  always  last. 

Sometimes  I  feel  like  I  am  selling  my  soul; 
That  there  is  nothing  but  self  behind  my  scheme, 
And  when  I  have  finished  I  may  regret  the  toll, 

I  have  had  to  pay  for  my  dream. 

Oh,  what  shall  I  do,  or  be? 

And  what  is  the  thing  to  pursue? 

I  know  God  has  given  me  a  voice, 

And  its  cultivation  is  my  due; 

Hew  much  should  I  pay,  and  how 
May  I  reach  the  end  without  sinning? 

If  my  voice  is  mine,  my  soul  is  mine; 

Oh,  I’m  back  again  at  the  beginning; 

I  will  be  myself  and  cultivate  my  voice, 

And  pay  as  little  for  the  thing  as  I  must; 

Since  Absul  is  here  and  persuading  me, 

I’ll  go  with  him;  I  see  nothing  unjust. 

Absul’s  persuading  has  won  her  word, 

But  her  heart  is  hers  yet  awhile; 

As  she  is  determined  to  herself  to  be  true, 

Absul  she  plans  to  beguile. 


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CHAPTER  9 

Absul  has  planned  the  marriage  a  fake. 

At  a  neighbor’s  who  is  like  himself,  as  one, 

And  while  they  perform  a  ceremony  with  license. 

No  marriage  will  officially  be  done. 

Absul  would  marry  her  if  he  thought 
He  could  count  surely  on  her  voice, 

But  until  he  can  set  her  value  down. 

He  is  waiting  surely  to  make  his  choice. 

He  engages  a  flat  in  a  respectable  place, 

And  they  go  to  work  to  make  their  dreams  materialize; 
She  practices  her  singing  all  day  long, 

While  he  gambles  he  has  won  a  prize; 

This  thing  does  not  go  on  long, 

Before  they  begin  to  read  between  the  lines, 

That  neither  is  getting  more  than  the  other  gives, 

And  each  begins  deeper  designs. 

Ruth  thinks  she  is  married  and  regrets  her  choice, 

As  love  cannot  succor  itself  alone; 

She  has  loved  herself  through  all  the  years, 

And  has  lived  on  the  love  of  her  friends,  now  gone; 

Like  a  plant  which  has  been  covered  and  grows, 

And  at  last  begins  to  see  the  sun, 

So  Ruth  wakes  from  her  long  hibernation, 

And  surveys  the  work  she  has  done; 

She  has  married  a  man  she  does  not  love, 

And  now  her  conscience  will  not  down; 

His  eyes,  manner,  smile,  all  speak  the  same  thing, 

He  possesses  her  as  a  thing  to  own; 

He  encourages  her  practice  as  a  thing  he  would  exploit, 
And  her  voice  she  is  learning  to  hate; 

But  she  dare  not  leave  practice  off, 

Now  that  she  sees  too  late. 

For  success  as  a  singer  she  has  no  heart; 

She  is  sure  she  could  fail  and  die, 

Rather  than  succeed  by  the  side  of  this  man. 

"Who  has  won  her  with  a  lie; 

Self-pity  she  would  indulge. 


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But  she  remembers  she  got  what  she  married, 

A  chance  to  develop  her  art; 

She  is  now  by  opportunity  harried; 

What  is  wrong  with  me  anyhow. 

That  the  thing  I  craved  so  long. 

Now  that  I  have  it,  I  hate  it  so? 

WTy  different  now?  Then  I  could  see  no  wrong. 

She  resolves  against  resolve, 

To  continue  her  course  and  win; 

To  herself  she  can  still  be  true, 

And  be  no  partaker  in  his  sin; 

She  studies  and  practises  for  success  alone. 

And  labors  the  whole  day  through; 

When  Absul  arrives  she  is  unconcerned, 

As  she  claims  now  to  him  nothing  is  due. 

He  smiles  in  self-satisfaction. 

And  considers  her  efforts  with  glee; 

His  investment  looks  to  be  assured, 

All  he  need  do  is  wait  and  see; 

The  days  drag  along  as  she  fights  alone 
Ever  approaching  closer  her  goal; 

The  things  we  win  here  cost  us  dear, 

When  we  pay  as  Ruth,  with  our  soul. 

The  stream  of  life  runs  on. 

But  sometimes  divided  in  its  course; 

So  one  part  of  this  stream  has  gone  to  a  career. 
Weakening  so  much  the  true  stream’s  source; 

The  reservoir  of  the  stream  for  the  career. 

Which  has  been  filling  through  the  years. 

Is  running  dry  as  the  days  go  by, 

And  will  soon  be  empty,  and  filled  with  tears. 

Ruth  has  walked  the  narrow  way, 

And  as  she  struggles  to  reach  the  top. 

The  resources  of  her  youth  hold  out, 


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Until  of  success  she  attains  a  moderate  sop. 
Absul  is  a  master  full  of  avarice, 

And  expects  more  than  moderate  returns; 

His  disappointment  soon  gives  vent. 

And  his  anger  with  Ruth  then  burns; 

He  upsets  her  nerves  and  will  to  go  on, 

And  hate  is  striving  to  control  her  life; 

While  she  would  loathe  to  break  her  word, 

She  would  not  live  in  strife. 

A  baby  comes  to  curse  a  home. 

Where  it  should  a  blessing  be. 

And  in  her  hour  of  her  soul’s  deep  need. 

She  feels  to  stand  alone  is  her  necessity; 

In  her  hours  of  lonely  waiting. 

She  thinks  of  David,  and  wonders, 

What  he  would  think  of  her  if  he  knew 
How  her  life  is  split  asunder; 

Recounting  her  days  from  her  marriage  till  now, 
The  last  note  hangs  like  a  picture  yet, 

Telling  him  not  to  write  any  more. 

And  try  to  forgive  and  forget; 

She  remembers  how  she  thought  she  loved  Absul, 
But  now  she  can  see  it  plain, 

She  loved  only  an  obsession  in  herself. 

And  was  seeking  to  turn  it  to  gain; 

Her  obsession  is  spent  and  she  is  poor. 

As  nothing  now  remains, 

Of  the  thing  she  loved  worth  the  while; 

Only  an  emptiness  she  now  contains; 

After  ruminating  through  the  past, 

And  trying  to  fix  the  blame, 

She  turns  to  the  future  to  survey. 

What  meed  shall  attend  her  name; 

She  makes  an  effort  to  reconstruct. 

In  her  mind  the  course  of  her  fall, 

So  that  if  possible  she  will  throw  it  off, 

And  get  from  under  the  pall; 


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She  goes  to  Sunday  school  again  in  her  mind. 

And  recalls  every  possible  thought; 

Measuring  all  the  things  she  did, 

Against  the  things  she  was  taught; 

She  remembers  something  about  seeking 
First  God’s  kingdom,  and  adding  the  rest; 

Why  I  wonder  did  I  not  that, 

And  give  the  Lord  a  test. 

She  measured  and  measured  through  the  night. 
To  find  where  she  was  guilty  of  sin; 

She  knew  that  something  had  gone  wrong, 

As  her  harvest  was  coming  in; 

She  could  not  dearly  see  the  gash  in  her  soul. 
But  she  vowed  in  heart  to  repent, 

And  make  amends  in  every  whit. 

When  once  she  could  find  the  rent; 

She  will  visit  her  mother  as  soon  as  she  can, 

And  stay  until  her  mind  is  clear, 

Just  what  she  shall  do,  and  how, 

And  strive  to  overcome  her  fear. 

CHAPTER  10 

The  mind  of  the  man  is  the  ruler 
Of  the  material  it  is  balanced  over; 

Absul’s  mind  has  not  been  balanced  of  late; 

The  woman  he  gambled  on  failed, 

Still  he  seems  to  want  her; 

He  has  not  been  to  see  her 

Since  she  went  to  the  maternity  hospital; 

Of  the  many  causes  of  his  annoyances, 

She  is  the  principal; 

He  is  now  planning  a  way  out; 

He  is  losing  his  care  about  reputation; 

With  an  unwelcome  infant  about, 

He  prefers  a  separation. 

1  have  other  women  friends, 

Who  have  more  thought  of  their  person; 


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Why  could  not  she  have  had  more  care, 

Than  from  somewhere  come  bringing  her  son; 

It  is  all  over,  I  am  through, 

I  shall  not  see  her  again; 

She  can  take  that  brat  and  go, 

How  do  I  know  she  did  not  see  other  men? 

She  has  cost  me  a  lot  of  money, 

And  I  expected  her  to  be  a  scream, 

But  just  when  she  might  begin  to  pay, 

With  a  baby  she  breaks  my  dream; 

It  is  enough  to  upset  a  man, 

For  affairs  to  take  such  a  turn; 

I  think  I  will  insure  this  joint, 

And  then  some  night  let  it  burn; 

That  fool  Simp  has  got  mad, 

And  is  working  on  Service  street, 

And  now  I  must  pay  a  cook; 

Simp  tells  I  am  a  dead-beat. 

The  world  is  not  the  same; 

Everything  is  going  wrong, 

But  I  must  live  somehow; 

The  world  owes  me  a  living. 

And  I’ll  get  it  before  long; 

The  fools  around  the  gaming 
Are  getting  on  to  my  tricks; 

I  cannot  make  headway  with  them  any  more, 

It  seems  they  are  on, 

No  matter  which  joint  a  fellow  picks; 

I  might  hold  up  some  man, 

After  I  locate  him  with  the  kale; 

Trouble  is  those  things  are  unsafe; 

If  I  take  a  chance,  only  a  matter  of  time  till  I  fail; 
I  might  try  boot-legging, 

But  the  way  you  have  to  pay. 

The  dirty  crooked  officers  are  worse, 

Than  any  set  of  crooks  today; 

Then  there  is  more  chance  to  take, 


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As  one  now  and  then  thinks  he  is  straight; 

And  getting  the  goods,  or  making  it, 

Some  fool  wise-acre  will  prate; 

I  will  figure  out  some  way  to  collect; 

Things  have  come  to  an  awful  fix. 

When  a  man  to  get  his  due, 

Has  to  resort  to  so  many  tricks. 

The  weak  against  the  strong; 

The  whole  world  organized  against  a  few; 

They  go  prating  about  robbers  and  counterfeiters, 
As  though  we  have  no  rights,  or  due. 

Well,  I  will  show  them  a  few  things 
Before  I  finish  my  day; 

They  may  think  they  can  hold  mine  back. 

But  they’ll  have  a  hard  time  saying  me  nay; 

1  wish  they  would  start  a  war; 

Then  a  man  can  make  things  go; 

A  fellow  can  work  several  trades, 

And  make  a  lot  of  dough; 

Everybody  is  busy  then,  too; 

Not  so  much  effort  to  understand; 

Gambling  goes  easy  when  they  are  full. 

And  money  to  be  had  on  every  hand; 

I  can  pick  up  a  little  information, 

And  sell  it  as  easy  as  pie; 

And  what  is  nicer  than  selling  the  people, 

Who  are  always  dogging  a  spy. 

CHAPTER  11. 


Ruth: 

Mama,  I  am  home  to  get  your  forgiveness; 
I  find  I  have  made  an  awful  mistake; 
lhat  longing  I  felt  so  long  for  a  career, 
"Was  evil  striving  a  bargain  to  make; 

I  see  it  now,  with  its  horror; 

Love  never  had  a  chance  in  my  heart, 


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With  that  devil  standing  there  ready 
At  everything  he  disliked  to  fire  a  dart. 

There  was  David,  dear  David,  I  love  him, 
But  all  the  years  he  was  at  my  door, 

I  could  not  see  through  the  mischief, 

Which  in  all  my  future  it  went  before; 

Every  good  impulse  that  came  in, 

It  seems  had  to  strive  with  my  career; 

A^nd  in  my  conceit  I  thought  it  virtue, 

That  would  lead  me  in  triumph  through  fear; 

But  it  was  a  bait  that  Satan  held  out, 

To  bring  me  into  his  fold; 

And  I,  like  a  sheep  to  the  slaughter, 

Followed  on  until  his  tentacles  took  hold; 

Then  I  struggled  and  fought  for  my  vantage, 

And  cried  for  truth  to  help  me  through; 

But  truth  seems  to  be  sleeping, 

And  I  got  no  help  in  what  I  would  do. 

I  fought  for  musical  attainment, 

Until  my  energy  was  all  gone; 

Then  I  went  to  the  hospital  and  baby  came; 

My  husband  deserted  me,  and  I  am  alone. 

What  can  I  do,  dear  mama? 

Will  you  let  me  awhile  stay  here, 

Till  I  can  get  on  my  feet  and  my  bearing. 

And  learn  how  to  bring  up  this  little  dear? 

I  will  go  back  as  far  as  my  memory  goes. 

And  correct  every  fault  that  I  ever  had, 

And  endeavor  to  hang  good  pictures  everywhere, 
Which  in  my  memory  are  now  bad; 

I  will  work  and  keep  myself  in  order, 

And  help  do  the  work  about  the  place; 

Keeping  good  and  pleasant  thoughts  in  my  mind, 
Will  help  to  keep  a  smile  on  my  face; 

This  is  going  to  be  an  awful  battle. 

To  up-root  the  tares  I  have  sown; 

Like  tearing  the  heart  out  and  resetting, 


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Putting  little  things  where  big  ones  have  grown; 
"While  the  little  ones  are  growing. 

The  ground  will  be  empty  and  bare; 

And  so  much  patience  in  waiting, 

While  good  things  are  growing  there. 

It  is  an  awful  thing,  this  replanting, 

After  a  failure  when  we  expect  great  results, 
Then  to  clear  your  life  of  all  action, 

And  plant  service  where  once  reigned  tumults; 

I  shall  have  to  hold  remorse  in  subjection, 

And  with  meekness  wait  on  the  Lord, 

To  water  the  word  He  has  planted; 

Without  Him  this  fight  will  be  too  hard; 

But  the  fight  is  worthwhile,  and  I’m  ready, 

To  battle  with  all  my  might, 

To  establish  good  things  in  my  life, 

With  an  eye  single  to  what  is  right 

Mama : 

My  dear,  of  course  you  are  welcome; 

We  are  glad  to  have  you  here, 

But  we  are  sorry  your  fortune 
Has  crowned  you  -with  a  tear. 

I  hoped  and  prayed  that  you  might  win, 

But  I  knew  you  had  chosen  wrong; 

As  the  fruits  of  the  good  and  true, 

With  secrecy  and  stealth  do  not  belong. 

When  that  man  came  here  to  win  you, 

He  carried  on  behind  my  back. 

And  I  knew  not  you  were  tempted, 

Until  you  were  won  by  his  attack; 

I  know  I  was  negligent  in  duty, 

In  failing  to  fortify  you  against  sin, 

But  you  were  protected  here  by  the  country, 

And  my  ignorance  did  not  expect  him  then. 

I  have  spent  many  an  hour  in  weeping, 

For  the  loss  of  my  darling  child. 

And  prayed  always  for  your  keeping; 


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Many  a  day  my  heart  wept  when  my  face  smiled; 
Sorrow  filled  all  my  silence, 

With  a  cup  I  had  to  drink; 

And  my  soul  burned  within  me, 

Till  my  mind  refused  to  think. 

Now  that  you  are  back  and  well, 

I  am  sure  that  you  will  profit  by  the  act; 

But  your  strength  is  too  weak  alone, 

Only  God  can  supply  your  lack. 

The  way  to  get  rid  of  those  tares 
Is  break  up  the  ground  well  deep, 

And  fill  your  life  with  good  deeds, 

While  you  wait  for  your  harvest  to  reap; 

Your  heart  is  like  the  garden, 

It  must  have  God’s  love  for  sun, 

And  the  rain  of  His  blessings  shall  fall 
In  the  opportunities  for  good  as  they  come. 

We  need  not  go  to  the  end  of  the  earth, 

To  bring  happiness  to  us; 

Just  plant  it  in  your  heart  and  let  it  grow; 

The  fruits  are  too  numerous  to  discuss; 

No  one  has  a  life  full  of  happiness, 

As  long  as  sin  is  abroad; 

Every  woman  who  loves  and  bears  children, 

In  something  envies  the  bawd; 

But  sin  is  weak  and  treacherous, 

And  once  it  gains  a  place  in  you, 

It  begins  to  strive  and  make  you  unhappy, 

Trying  to  cast  out  everything  that  is  true; 

There  is  no  room  within  for  a  divided  house; 

You  must  serve  some  master  first; 

And  the  first  will  subordinate  every  other, 

As  a  ruler  for  power  has  a  thirst. 

When  once  you  lie,  your  house  begins  to  fall, 
And  passers-by  can  look  in  at  you; 

They  may  not  see  you,  but  they  see  the  hole, 
Where  the  false  has  supplanted  the  true; 


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The  false  cannot  supplant  the  true, 

Unless  your  will  shall  so  decide; 

And  truth  will  reign  without  your  consent, 

Until  you  let  sin  abide; 

When  you  dismiss  the  truth, 

He  takes  up  his  reign  at  your  door. 

And  camps  there  an  enemy  until  you  sue  for  peace; 
Or  fights  you  forever-more. 

So,  my  dear,  be  of  good  cheer, 

Your  welcome  is  overflowing; 

And  all  our  love  shall  balm  your  pain, 

Our  best  blessings  on  you  bestowing. 

Do  not  try  to  heal  your  own  wounds; 

That  cannot  be  done  by  you  at  all; 

You  must  wait  on  nature  and  its  laws; 

Remove  the  cause  and  guard  against  another  sewing. 
God  is  good  and  wise,  you  see; 

He  knows  we  are  full  of  flaws, 

And  made  provision  for  us  to  come  back; 

We  are  not  hurt  in  spirit  without  a  cause. 

CHAPTER  12. 

A  letter  from  Absul,  I  wonder  what  he  wants. 

After  leaving  me  without  a  word: 

In  my  heart  I'll  never  trust  him  again; 

As  a  man  he  is  about  a  third; 

He  says  we  were  not  married! 

He  only  went  through  a  fake; 

He  finds  he  does  not  love  me,  as  he  thought! 

I  guess  not,  the  miserable  rake! 

I  have  long  doubted  his  intent, 

And  now  I  see  it  plain; 

He  married  me  to  use  me  to  serve  him. 

And  thought  he  might  turn  me  to  gain. 

The  beast  that  can  lie  with  such  cunning. 

And  never  wilt  in  his  smile, 


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Has  a  heart  that  is  hard  as  adamant, 

And  a  'will  only  to  lie  and  beguile; 

To  think  of  my  shame  at  this  hour! 

I  could  tear  that  boy’s  heart  out; 

And  still,  he  is  mine,  and  not  his; 

All  vengeance  must  be  put  to  rout. 

I  will  have  to  endure  it  alone, 

And  in  the  spirit  of  the  Christ, 

Just  turn  th'e  other  cheek  and  pray, 

And  even  love  him,  I  suppose; 

With  hell  life  is  spiced; 

Oh!  God,  possess  me  now, 

And  help  me  to  bear  this  cross, 

While  from  my  heart  I  pluck  every  evil  thought, 
And  the  fires  of  hell  burn  away  my  dross; 

I  am  sinking  down,  down,  down, 

And  drinking  the  dregs  of  gall; 

If  death  were  found  at  the  bottom, 

It  can  add  no  bitterness  to  my  fall; 

The  life  I  have  fed  upon  has  made  me  sick, 
Still  others  consume  it,  and  more; 

While  to  me  it  is  like  wormwood  and  fire, 

To  them  they  only  hate  being  called  a  whore; 
How  shall  I  ever  endure  it, 

And  live  to  see  it  through? 

What  shall  I  tell  the  world,  and  my  son, 

And  what  will  they  think  and  do? 

Now  that  I  am  stripped  stark  naked, 

Of  all  reputation  I  ever  had, 

I  will  commence  to  build  again, 

And  use  nothing  that  Heaven  forbade; 

I  may  die  in  the  making. 

But  I  will  win  this  fight  if  I  live; 

There  will  be  no  such  thing  as  sacrifice, 

It  shall  be  my  duty  to  give; 

I  will  give  my  life  in  service; 

I  will  give  my  voice  in  song; 


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I’ll  give  my  soul  as  an  emulsion, 

To  heal  wounds  made  by  enemies’  wrong. 
When  I  have  poured  it  all  out  in  triumph, 

I  will  stand  on  the  altar  and  smile, 

And  dare  the  very  fires  of  hell 
To  burn  me  all  the  while; 

I  will  plant  myself  in  the  middle  of  the  mess, 
And  by  God’s  power  and  grace, 

I  will  sprout  and  grow  another  life, 

And  clothe  it  with  a  better  face; 

I  shall  not  weep  or  sadden, 

Nor  further  sully  the  name  I  love; 

I’ll  be  too  busy  up-setting  the  devil, 

With  the  power  I  draw  from  above; 

I  will  plant  truth  in  the  face  of  iniquity. 

And  dare  it  to  dispute  my  word; 

1  will  make  it  grow  and  bloom  and  thrive; 

And  cowards  shall  not  know  what  occurred; 

I  will  stand  for  virtue  where  infamy, 

Hangs  her  head  for  shame; 

1  will  make  them  deny  their  rotten  souls, 

And  acknowledge  that  truth  is  game; 

I  will  dog  the  heels  of  evil, 

With  a  flame  that  shall  never  cease, 

And  be  unafraid  of  their  viciousness, 

For  death  shall  give  me  release; 

If  I  die  in  the  course  of  duty, 

As  I  have  found  it  laid  on  my  soul, 

I  will  fly  straight  to  the  breast  of  my  Maker, 
And  He  will  hear  me,  and  make  me  whole. 

Henceforth  I  am  the  militant  enemy, 

Of  every  sin  of  the  race, 

And  no  man  shall  raise  a  voice  of  protest; 

I  will  fling  it  back  in  his  face. 

But  I  must  calm  this  raging; 

It  is  like  beating  against  the  wind; 


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But  nevertheless,  I  have  arrived. 

And  shall  stay,  my  whole  life  to  spend. 

When  I  get  through  scratching  the  devil, 
He’ll  wish  he  had  not  taken  me  in; 

I’ll  fight  him  until  I  see  his  doom, 

And  then  fight  his  works  among  men. 

Something  tells  me  this  is  not  the  spirit, 
That  wins  against  great  odds; 

That  spirit  is  calm  and  unassuming, 

Wearing  the  confidence  of  the  gods; 

Moving  slowly  when  provoked; 

Enduring  long  the  sneers  and  insults; 

All  the  while  planning  a  deep  intent. 

That  shall  not  be  known,  except  by  results; 
Thus  shall  I  work  and  fight, 

Trusting  God  to  make  the  plan; 

I  shall  not  even  know  the  place, 

Or  when  the  fight  began. 

CHAPTER  13. 

Absul : 

I  am  beginning  to  want  that  woman  back, 
Even  if  she  has  got  a  boy; 

I  might  take  that  chap  and  train  him, 

And  he  could  bring  me  a  lot  of  joy; 

But  it  is  too  late  now  though, 

I  wrote  her  and  told  her  the  truth; 

How  strange  of  me  to  do  such  a  thing; 

I  am  still  in  my  bungling  youth; 

She  does  not  know  enough  to  use  it; 

I’ll  bet  she  burned  it  up; 

Strange  how  these  people  who  claim  honor, 
Have  to  drink  such  a  bitter  cup. 

Well,  it’s  their  due,  they  should  know  better, 
Such  hypocrisy  in  this  day  to  try; 

Why,  of  course  they  all  have  their  price; 

The  boob  does  not  live  I  cannot  buy; 

Don’t  talk  to  me  of  honor; 


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i 

That  is  the  thing  with  which  to  control; 

Just  get  something  on  one  of  those  people, 

And  all  they  have  they  put  out  for  toll. 

I  understand  about  all  such  stuff; 

It’s  dangerous  to  have  it  around; 

If  I  were  one  of  them,  and  they  got  something  on  me, 
I  would  bait  him,  and  put  him  to  sleep  sound. 

But  then  I  am  going  wrong  there; 

They  would  not  have  the  nerve  to  do  that; 

Those  fellows  who  think  honor  is  worth  while, 

Are  cowards,  and  blind  as  a  bat. 

I  will  look  around  and  find  a  way 
To  get  something  on  the  cattle; 

And  then  I  will  make  them  come  clean, 

Or  give  them  a  hell  of  a  battle. 

Once  I  can  get  a  start  I  can  establish  depots. 

Where  I  can  keep  women  for  sale, 

All  painted  up  nice  with  their  silk  robes, 

That  is  a  bait  that  will  never  fail; 

And  then  I  will  need  that  Ruth, 

To  make  my  respectability  look  like  the  truth. 

Fool  that  I  was,  I  never  thought; 

I  will  go  right  back  to  their  farm. 

And  make  this  thing  all  up; 

Show  how  I  love  her,  and  meant  no  harm. 

Now  let’s  see,  how  I  can  explain  it — 

I’ll  tell  her  about  Simp  and  magnify; 

And  the  bad  health  I  have  had  lately. 

Embellished  here  and  there  with  a  lie. 

These  women  are  such  fools,  you  cannot  hold  them, 
Unless  you  tell  them  a  lot  of  lies; 

In  fact,  I  guess  they  half-way  know  it, 

But  every  woman  has  something  she  defies. 

I’ll  tell  her  how  badly  I  miss  her; 

While  I  am  at  it  I  will  be  a  devil  complete; 

I  never  had  any  use  for  these  half-hearted  cowards, 
Who  are  so  afraid  of  wetting  their  pretty  feet. 

I  cannot  tell  her  we  are  married  though; 


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She  can  look  at  the  records  and  see  we  are  not; 

I  will  have  to  lie  around  that  some  how; 

If  I  ever  tell  the  truth  again  I  hope  I  get  shot. 

I  am  beginning  to  love  liars, 

Like  I  love  myself,  as  much; 

If  any  one  learns  the  truth  about  me,  and  tells, 

I  will  kill  him  like  a  snake  I  would  not  touch; 

I  will  drive  out  to  see  her  in  my  roadster, 

And  that  will  help  get  her  back; 

Women  are  all  fools  about  motors; 

I  guess  they  are  all  right,  but  hell  painted  them  black. 

CHAPTER  14. 

Absul  arrives  and  knocks  at  the  door; 

Ruth  opens  it  with  a  grim  smile; 

How  are  you,  dear,  I  missed  you  so, 

I  thought  I  would  run  out  and  see  you  awhile; 

I  did  not  know  I  could  miss  any  one, 

As  I  have  you  these  days; 

If  you  will  come  back  again  with  me, 

J  promise  you  I  will  mend  my  ways. 

The  cafe  burned,  and  everything  went  wrong, 
And  that  is  mostly  the  reason 
I  was  all  broken  and  in  such  spirits; 

Like  a  blizzard  out  of  season; 

I  should  have  been  happy,  with  our  boy, 

And  you  getting  along  so  well; 

My  trouble  began  when  Simp  left. 

Followed  by  other  troubles  I  could  not  foretell; 

Now,  be  a  good  girl,  and  let’s  go  back; 

See  the  pretty  car  I  brought  along. 

All  just  to  make  you  happy; 

And  so  much  I  want  you  to  sing  me  a  song. 

Come  in  and  have  a  seat. 

We’ll  talk  things  over  and  see 

Why  you  care  enough  to  come  this  far, 


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141 


What  the  reason  can  really  be; 

You  told  me  you  did  not  marry  me; 

I  suppose  now  you  find  you  did, 

And  you  had  a  lapse  of  memory. 

During  which  our  marriage  was  hid? 

No,  deai,  that  is  a  thing  we  will  mend, 

As  soon  as  we  reach  the  city; 

That  I  should  have  allowed  those  tricksters 
To  persuade  me  and  fool  me,  is  a  pity; 

1  really  thought  at  the  time, 

We  were  being  truly  married; 

But  they  wanted  to  play  a  practical  joke. 

As  they  thought,  and  our  marriage  miscarried; 

I  was  so  angry  when  they  told  me, 

I  almost  committed  murder; 

But  they  overpowered  me.  and  stopped  me; 

Finally  my  passion  was  spent,  and  I  went  no  further. 

Of  course  I  should  have  married  you, 

As  soon  as  I  found  I  was  tricked, 

But  I  knew  how  bitter  you  would  feel, 

And  I  was  by  my  conscience  pricked; 

Night  after  night  for  a  good  while. 

I  could  not  go  to  sleep, 

Worrying  and  questioning  what  I  should  do; 

My  heart  was  so  heavy  I  would  almost  weep; 

That  was  probably  the  trouble, 

That  made  dear  old  Simp  leave, 

I  was  troubled  in  spirit  and  ill-tempered; 

So  quarrelsome,  it  is  hard  to  believe. 

I  was  so  glad  when  your  music  was  finished; 

You  had  worked  so  hard. 

And  to  think  that  ill-fortune  separated  us  then, 

When  nature  dealt  us  the  boy  as  a  big  trump  card. 
It  is  all  bad,  and  it  is  all  my  fault, 

But  we  can  now  make  amends; 


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I  -will  be  good  and  stay  home  every  night, 

And  we  will  have  good  things  without  end. 

Tell  me,  dear,  you  are  going  back; 

You  see  I  am  wearing  my  sweetest  smile; 

Make  my  old  heart  feel  glad, 

And  don’t  add  another  bitter  trial. 

No,  Absul,  I  cannot  go  back, 

And  I  hope  it  does  not  break  your  heart; 

But  the  months  with  you  is  a  nightmare, 

Which  is  too  bitter  to  ever  depart. 

That  smile  and  pleading  you  offer, 

Are  as  an  empty  shell; 

I  know  you  now,  and  I  know  how. 

That  smile  originated  in  hell. 

Any  man  who  can  plead  as  you  do,  and  woo  as  you  woo, 
With  an  evil  design  in  his  brain, 

Is  too  wicked  a  man  to  form  a  plan, 

On  which  any  woman  should  rely  again; 

No,  I  have  made  new  resolves, 

And  I  shall  stick  to  them  till  death. 

That  I  shall  fight  every  evil  in  sight, 

As  long  as  God  gives  me  breath; 

Knowing  your  heart  to  be  so  vile, 

And  your  aim  to  be  so  sinister, 

You  are  the  man  I  will  aim  and  plan 
To  destroy  as  best  I  can  minister; 

I  will  go  back  to  the  city, 

But  I  will  go  to  fight  your  kind, 

With  every  minute  of  my  time, 

And  every  thought  of  my  mind. 

Absul,  I  dont  hate  you  now,  * 

I  have  gotten  past  that  place, 

But  I  am  altogether  aiming  to  destroy, 

The  last  vestige  of  your  race; 

Destroy  it  because  it  is  evil; 

Your  thoughts  are  all  in  the  dark; 


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Though  you  smile  on  your  countenance. 

Back  of  it  lives  a  satanical  shark. 

Go  now,  and  it  is  my  wish 
You  never  speak  to  me  again, 

And  I  wish  never  to  see  you  more, 

Until  I  see  you  where  hell-fire  doth  reign. 

.Absul: 

So  you  are  wise,  you  know  me  now? 

Let  me  give  you  one  word  of  advice: 

Dc  not  ever  speak  of  me  thus, 

.And  if  you  mention  my  name,  say  something  nice; 
Don’t  forget  I  spent  a  lot  of  money  on  you, 

And  you  owe  me  everything  you  are; 

I  picked  you  up  out  here  nothing. 

And  made  you  shine  like  a  star; 

Your  success  almost  achieved. 

You  think  you  can  throw  me  down, 

But  you  will  find  I  will  not  shake  off; 

I  will  hold  you  in  spite  of  your  frown. 

You  will  be  proud  of  me  when  you  surrender, 

A  man  who  refuses  to  be  cheated; 

1  will  have  my  way  in  spite  of  heaven  or  hell. 

And  I  will  not  be  entreated. 

Do  you  think  I  would  let  a  woman 
Deceive  me  and  use  me  for  all  I  am  worth, 

And  then  when  she  is  ready,  discard  me? 

I  tell  you  now  I  would  kill  you  first. 

I  will  not  antagonize  you  further. 

But  think  it  over  and  come  back; 

As  I  am  sure  your  better  judgment  will  prevail. 
And  your  rashness  will  retract. 

CHAPTER  15. 

Mama  is  coming,  I  must  brace  up, 

And  not  let  her  know  the  worst; 

I  will  steel  my  heart  till  death, 

And  try  not  think  how  Absul  cursed. 


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Ruth,  what  is  wrong  with  you? 

You  look  as  if  you  wrere  all  spent; 

Dear,  do  not  let  little  things  bother  you; 
Mend  yourself  of  the  past,  and  repent. 

Mama,  I  thought  I  went  to  hell. 

And  was  given  my  sentence  for  sin; 

I  thought  I  was  to  be  locked  up  forever, 

With  a  beastly  devil,  in  a  little  den; 

I  thought  I  was  his  char- woman,  and  menial. 
And  carried  on  his  work  like  a  slave; 

But  there  is  one  way  to  escape  the  beast; 

I  will  laugh,  and  take  refuge  in  the  grave. 

I  could  run  away  like  a  coward, 

And  find  a  place  to  hide, 

But  a  prisoner  in  a  w'orld  of  freedom 
Is  a  thing  I  could  never  abide; 

I  could  take  advantage  of  him,  and  kill  him. 
But  in  that  I  would  not  be  better  than  he. 
So  I  will  keep  my  soul,  and  go  on, 

Destroy  him  with  truth,  and  cease  to  be. 

Oh,  what  a  battle  we  must  win, 

When  we  challenge  the  sin  against  our  soul; 
We  must  stoop  to  death  to  conquer; 

It’s  the  price  of  fate;  the  gate-keeper’s  toll; 
When  I  put  on  this  armour  immortal, 

I  feel  happy;  my  soul  goes  free; 

Through  death  we  win  our  freedom; 

By  denying  ourselves,  emancipated  are  we; 

I  feel  one  step  pass  another, 

As  my  spirit  resolves  to  stand; 

I  know  my  salvation  is  purchased, 

And  no  power  can  take  it  from  His  hand. 

I  am  safe!  Oh,  hallelujah! 

New  courage  is  come  to  bear  me  up; 

I  shall  never  turn  back  now,  I  know; 

How  I  loathe  the  corrupt. 


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CHAPTER  16. 

David  is  now  general  manager, 

And  three  thousand  men  obey  his  command; 

AD  his  time  and  thought  is  enlisted, 

To  make  them  love  him,  and  understand; 

He  strives  to  put  the  institution, 

Where  every  man  will  feel  his  part, 

And  become  a  conscientious  worker,  without  watching; 
Each  man  feeling  a  boss  is  set  up  in  his  heart; 

To  do  this  he  has  established  a  school 
Where  every  man  is  taught  from  the  start, 

What  his  obligations  are  to  God  and  country; 

His  employer  and  himself  is  one  part; 

To  be  true  to  myself  as  a  citizen, 

I  must  be  true  to  the  nation; 

As  I  would  that  other  men  do  to  me, 

Is  the  country’s,  and  family’s  salvation. 

Step  by  step  these  things  are  made  plain, 

Td  each  worker  before  he  is  through; 

Before  he  can  be  true  to  another, 

He  to  God  and  self  must  be  true. 

There  is  a  place  in  their  schooling, 

Where  each  one  faces  wrong,  himself  the  victim; 

Here  he  is  shown  the  value  of  turning  the  other  cheek, 
And  to  discuss  it  with  his  friends  before  he  condemn; 

Thus  wrongs  are  corrected  with  pardon. 

That  otherwise  might  have  vengeance  wrought, 

And  some  home  deprived  of  a  supporter, 

While  victim’s  self-respect  goes  up  in  his  thought. 

j 

While  we  are  building  motors  for  elevators, 

We  are  building  men  to  go  above, 

Who  will  grow  and  carry  on  to  success, 

In  their  service  to  all  through  love; 

Such  is  the  building  of  nations, 

Small  things  begin  to  make  the  man, 

But  the  small  things  of  correct  regulation, 

Work  wonders  in  completing  the  plan; 


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If  every  man  were  free  without  limit, 

There  would  be  no  need  for  restraint, 

But  since  we  all  serve  each  other, 

Let  honor  rule  without  complaint. 

We  suggest  to  the  parent  thus: 

Commence  with  the  infant  to  train, 

When  it  first  begins  moving  around, 

To  move  with  your  intent  in  the  main; 

Toys  have  one  place  to  be  kept, 

And  keep  them  in  that  place; 

Dirt  has  one  place  to  serve, 

And  that  is  not  on  the  face; 

When  they  go  out  to  play  under  a  tree, 

A  paper  they  should  rest  upon; 

And  when  they  wish  other  things  to  do, 
Leave  papers  where  they  belong; 

With  courage  and  firmness  reprimand, 

That  they  be  not  unkind  to  each  other; 

And  honestly  give  them  to  understand, 

Every  human  being  is  a  brother. 

Certainly  there  is  a  time  to  teach, 

What  you  own  belongs  not  to  another, 

And  when  that  other  your  possessions  take, 

It  is  your  duty  his  sin  to  uncover. 

It  is  my  duty  to  withhold  from  giving, 

To  those  who  would  selfishly  make  gain; 

As  such  planting  will  bear  fruit 
And  false  giving  will  bear  pain. 

Teach  giving  to  be  done  for  service, 

To  the  body,  the  mind,  or  the  soul, 

Thus  each  step  is  building  to  perfection; 
Credit  puts  the  giver  nearer  his  goal. 

Give  your  wife  a  kiss  for  good  fellowship; 
And  your  children  a  smile  for  faith; 

You  will  find  you  are  sewing  for  treasure, 

And  the  reward  comes  soon,  not  after  death. 


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147 


Give  good  advice  in  precept, 

But  the  example  is  effective  more, 

And  we  should  do  so  with  love  in  view, 

As  the  reason  for  things  should  be  planted  at  the  core, 
Fathers  are  expected  to  sway  their  sons, 

To  respect  their  neighbor’s  daughter, 

With  the  same  care  and  good  will, 

They  wish  neighbor  to  give  sister  and  mother. 

Thus  counter-cords  of  love  are  binding, 

Each  heart  to  the  standard  of  right; 

When  they  are  tried  by  temptation  they  will  stand, 

As  they  are  fortified  with  counter-might; 

Each  human  should  be  carefully  balanced, 

With  reason  right  from  the  beginning; 

And  then  that  reason  should  be  fortified, 

With  counter-reason  against  sinning. 

Thus  the  little  words  and  deeds  are  properly  weighed, 

And  the  little  wrongs  that  are  prone  to  accumulate, 

Are  buried  with  the  counter-claims, 

Of  little  things  so  many  would  over-rate. 

Like  a  vine,  the  personality  branches  out. 

Planted  by  the  side  of  your  gate, 

It  soon  climbs  your  fence,  reaching  about, 

Ascends  a  tree  to  higher  estate; 

Perhaps  it  will  climb  to  a  neighbor’s  roof, 

And  then  to  his  wife’s  boudoir, 

And  following  its  inclination  with  no  regard  to  right, 

It  finds  itself  involved  in  war; 

So  should  we  in  our  living, 

Follow  an  inclination  that  is  just, 

No  peering  into  things  not  our  concern, 

Nor  violating  any  thought  of  trust. 

We  thus  build  until  our  energy  surpasses  our  mind, 

And  reaches  out  into  another  world, 

As  it  cannot  see,  hear  or  feel, 

It  must  be  balanced  before  unfurled; 

Then  if  it  approaches  your  neighbor’s  goods. 


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It  approaches  with  friendly  mien, 

As  the  balance  will  react  against  its  kind, 

It  will  be  welcome  where  felt  or  seen; 

Opinion  begins  to  ascend  this  energy, 

In  the  same  balance  and  way, 

Until  you  can  see  the  inside  of  your  neighbor, 
With  the  eye  of  your  mind,  like  day. 

While  this  process  is  going  on, 

Remember  he  is  also  growing, 

And  bear  in  your  heart  what  you  would  have  him  see, 
As  you  will  reap  what  your  heart  is  sowing. 

While  honesty  grows  and  blooms, 

Dishonesty  is  moving  too, 

And  bears  false  fruit  to  bear  it  down, 

Which  the  true  will  not  do. 

When  we  lie,  our  balance  begins  to  sway, 

And  the  false  fruits  add  to  the  weight, 

So  we  imagine  our  friend  is  pushing  us  over, 

When  it  is  our  own  deeds  determining  our  fate. 
Many  a  man  has  hastened  his  fall. 

By  letting  his  ambition  rise. 

On  a  false  balance  which  would  not  stand, 

Breaks  down,  withers  and  dies. 

Now  if  this  same  man  had  sought  balance; 

By  truth  and  justice  built  his  parts; 

He  would  have  been  fortified  by  faith, 

And  never  felt  the  enemies’  darts. 

The  enemies’  darts  are  small  shafts, 

That  strike  a  sensitive  spot, 

Which  is  breaking  under  the  load  it  now  has, 
Otherwise  it  would  not  be  so  hot. 

These  are  the  failures  we  see  every  day, 

As  we  witness  dying  men, 

Every  one  striving  in  his  own  false  way, 

When  if  truth  reigned,  it  would  not  have  been. 


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149 


There  is  a  remedy  for  every  sin, 

Otherwise  we  would  not  indict; 

It  lies  in  giving  life’s  control  to  God, 

And  to  all  humanity  do  right. 

If  we  take  up  our  fate  at  the  time  and  place, 
Where  nature  is  moving  on, 

We’ll  move  with  the  tide  of  youth  and  life. 

To  the  fortune  we  may  claim  for  our  own. 

It  we  fail  to  take  the  tide  today, 

Tomorrow  our  balance  is  a  little  off; 

We  may  overcome  by  a  harder  fight, 

But  we  are  more  inclined  to  scoff. 

As  we  go  down  we  blame  others, 

For  pushing  us  away  from  our  own, 

Whereas  it  is  a  chance  the  ones  we  blame, 

Are  the  ones  who  have  a  right  to  moan. 

By  our  pushing  into  their  affairs. 

When  they  would  build  their  hours, 

We  dishevel  their  work,  while  ours  we  shirk, 
Necessitating  they  concentrate  their  powers. 

Such  is  life  as  we  find  it  here, 

Mixed  up  as  it  should  not  be; 

To  relieve  it  is  the  work  in  hand, 

To  teach  these  blind  builders  to  see. 

j 

CHAPTER  17. 

David’s  work  is  going  fine  today; 

He  thinks:  I’ll  let  my  foremen  go  it  alone; 
Unless  we  give  the  babes  a  chance, 

They  will  crawl  till  life  is  done. 

I  will  go  back  to  the  old  home, 

And  see  how  dad  and  mam  are  going; 

And  look  over  the  old  scenes, 

Where  so  long  I  spent  just  growing; 

I  want  to  climb  that  old  apple  tree, 

And  get  that  big  yellow  one  again; 


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And  slip  another  watermelon  away, 

To  cool  and  eat  after  the  rain; 

I’ll  be  a  boy  and  swim  in  the  old  hole, 

Where  we  used  to  many  years  ago; 

I  wonder  what  has  happened  to  those  boys, 

Who  used  to  wrestle  and  race  me  so. 

We  would  play  hide-and-seek  in  the  barn, 

Dodging  work  in  rainy  weather; 

We  would  dig  a  hole  far  under  the  hay, 

And  would  sometimes  nearly  smother. 

Such  is  a  boy  full  of  fun  and  frolics; 

It  is  good  until  they  begin  to  sneak  off; 

We  boys  frequently  drifted  so  far, 

Our  conduct  was  too  rotten  to  speak  of. 

It  behooves  fathers  to  begin  early, 

The  acts  of  sons  to  guide  on, 

Else  they  will  attach  to  contaminations, 

They  may  not  shake  off  when  they  are  grown. 

A  lot  of  fools  think  it  makes  no  difference, 

But  it  makes  a  difference  with  your  fruit  or  stock; 
If  some  disease  fastens  on  it  young, 

To  mend  it  you  set  your  face  like  a  rock. 

But  boys  get  into  devilment, 

That  is  a  disease  of  the  soul  and  mind, 

And  unless  it  is  cured  by  the  leaven  of  virtue, 

It  will  early  emasculate  and  betray  their  kind. 
The  girls  have  their  vices  and  evils, 

The  same  as  the  boys  do; 

In  playing  with  the  fires  of  nature, 

They  leave  openings  for  evil  to  come  through; 

In  later  years  when  sin  strikes, 

They  are  weak  in  the  part  where  they  broke, 
And  the  edge  of  an  evil  suggestion, 

Creeps  through  when  no  one  spoke. 

Truth  is  a  great  advertiser; 

He  writes  it  on  the  face  of  us  all, 


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151 


Just  what  we  are  and  why,  etc., 

Only  we  are  too  dumb  to  read  after  we  fall; 

Nature  plants  all  things  to  perfection. 

But  we  through  sins  we  inherit,  and  our  own. 

Mar  her  work  and  make  it  ugly, 

Such  waste  the  Master  will  not  condone. 

Men  should  cultivate  virtue, 

Coupled  with  daring  and  love, 

Forgetting  not  to  be  guided  by  reason. 

In  their  efforts  forward  to  move; 

Abandon  all  hypocrisy  and  cowardice; 

Eschewing  all  hasty  service  to  self  first; 

Appealing  direct  to  their  Maker, 

1’or  all  needed  slake  for  their  thirst. 

Secrets  are  things  for  the  evil; 

Keep  none  of  them  hid  in  your  breast; 

Which  does  not  mean  we  should  tell  everything; 

Tell  the  necessary,  and  withhold  the  rest. 

All  things  that  apply  to  men. 

Apply  to  women  as  well, 

With  reason  to  lay  on  the  burden, 

But  keep  no  tryst  with  hell. 

Doing  wrong  is  like  looking  backward. 

We  put  our  toe  where  our  heel  should  be; 

If  you  are  headed  for  suspicion. 

Right  about  where  the  light  you  can  see. 

Nothing  is  gained  by  living  in  darkness, 

Neither  of  sex,  ambition,  or  fraud; 

Spread  your  life  out  between  you  and  your  Maker; 

The  wrong  will  dry  up,  and  the  right  some  one  will  laud. 


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CHAPTER  18 

Old  dad  is  still  digging  and  saving, 

Laying  by  for  the  time  of  need; 

Mam  is  canning  and  serving, 

Still  going,  but  with  lesser  speed; 

These  dear  old  folks,  I  love  them, 

All  their  children  now  gone,  and  alone, 

They  cherish  and  bless  each  other, 

With  the  smile  they  have  used  so  long; 

How  glad  they  are  to  see  me, 

It  makes  me  ashamed  to  come  home, 

And  have  them  do  so  much  for  me, 

When  I  would  prefer  serving  them  some. 

That  hen  cackling  in  the  barn  lot. 

Announcing  another  egg  by  her  lay; 

Nature  has  provided  her  an  instinct, 

To  tell  how  she  expects  to  live  another  day; 

She  shouts  aloud  her  accomplishment; 

The  rooster  sounds  his  alarm, 

As  she  flies  from  the  nest, 

He  seems  to  fear  she  will  do  herself  harm. 

Now  he  has  found  a  choice  morsel; 

Hear  him  calling  her  to  come  and  enjoy; 

He  pretends  she  is  not  coming,  and  eats  it, 

While  she  runs  to  him  disappointed.  You  dirty  boy! 
He  drops  one  wing  down  and  trips  around; 

I  suppose  that  is  his  way  of  making  love; 

He  is  trying  to  smoothe  over  his  selfish  act, 

With  a  little  mush  and  salve. 

People  are  sometimes  like  that, 

Only  they  use  more  conceit; 

He  will  make  up  with  that  old  hen  in  a  jiffy; 

In  like  manner  women  allow  affronts  to  repeat. 

The  pigs  go  wrestling  for  their  dinner; 

Every  one  has  his  own  rightful  teat; 

And  the  geese  go  strutting  around  in  couples, 

All  ganders  pretend  everything  to  defeat; 


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153 


They  fight  the  cows,  and  pigs,  and  each  other; 

That  old  crook-tail  seems  to  boss  the  lot; 

Grabs  a  hog  by  the  ear  and  squalls  and  flaps, 

He  has  had  enough  exercise  to  make  him  hot; 

The  calf  tries  to  get  a  little  of  his  feed; 

Got  it  by  the  tail  and  gone  on  a  run; 

Comes  back  bragging  of  the  great  victory; 

Bossing  this  barn  lot  for  him  is  great  fun. 

There  are  men  like  that  gander,  in  their  estimation; 
Go  about  fighting  and  strutting  and  bragging; 

When  there  is  no  one  around  they  are  afraid  of, 

They  are  at  some  one  always  nagging; 

That  gander  never  tackles  the  boar; 

He  knows  his  authority  will  not  go; 

So  with  the  bully,  when  some  one  he  fears  is  around. 

He  acts  like  he  is  sick,  and  lies  low. 

How  much  we  animals  all  seem  related; 

I  judge  from  this  fact  our  creation. 

Was  by  the  same  hand  in  the  main; 

As  the  steps  of  likeness  follow  each  other, 

Something  like  the  cars  follow  in  a  train. 

Well,  man  is  the  caboose  and  conductor, 

And  whether  we  own  this  train,  or  not. 

We  are  the  head  of  the  kingdom. 

And  will  be  responsible  for  our  lot. 

CHAPTER  19 

Mother  has  told  me  about  Ruth; 

That  man  of  hers  is  a  ruthless  demon, 

Not  to  be  able  to  see  the  virtue  of  her, 

Proves  he  knows  not  the  value  of  women. 

I  will  go  to  see  her  tomorrow, 

And  hear  her  explanation  of  it  all; 

Ruth  is  such  a  circumspect  woman, 

To  get  a  divorce  to  her  is  to  fall. 


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The  man  who  could  surpass  her, 

Must  have  horns  or  wings; 

I  thought  I  was  quite  a  man, 

And  the  gash  of  my  wound  still  stings; 

How  humiliated  I  feel  at  this  turn. 

For  the  only  girl  I  ever  loved, 

To  reject  me  with  disdain, 

As  if  I  had  not  her  affections  moved. 

After  I  had  done  my  very  best, 

With  years  to  perfect  my  cause, 

This  bully  comes  charging  in, 

And  succeeds  with  a  moment’s  pause. 

She  grabs  him  with  feverish  haste. 

And  they  are  gone  from  her  world. 

To  a  place  he  has  prepared; 

Then  back  again  she  is  hurled. 

It  seems  like  a  tragedy, 

Still  I  suppose  it  is  all  right; 

I’ll  bear  my  pain  and  love  her  still. 

As  the  winner  surely  had  the  might. 

I  suppose  I  should  seem  to  love  her  not, 

As  it  is  now  too  late  to  plead, 

But  my  heart  may  break  out, 

And  reveal  my  soul’s  deep  need. 

A  man  of  nerve  and  steel, 

Can  thrust  himself  through  hell. 

If  he  feels  the  need  for  the  course, 

And  his  heart  should  never  tell. 

I  will  try  to  mend  her  life, 

As  much  as  I  can  as  a  friend; 

Being  careful  to  not  open  the  old  wound, 

And  treat  the  past  as  a  thing  at  an  end. 

Ruth  is  a  dear  old  girl  withal, 

So  beautiful  and  kind; 

It  may  be  though  my  love  has  magnified  her  so, 
That  I  do  not  know  her  mind. 

She  was  always  so  friendly  and  distant, 


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155 


Depending  on  me  to  unwind 
Everything  I  knew  about,  or  thought; 

When  she  talked,  she  said  nothing  I  would  find. 

I  knew  somehow  she  was  dodging; 

Never  really  letting  me  in, 

W'hich  made  me  work  the  harder, 

Trying  to  find  a  common  thought  for  love  to  begin. 
But  I  failed;  how  mortifying, 

When  I  thought  nothing  was  too  high, 

That  once  I  laid  my  siege  to  it, 

I  could  bring  it  nigh. 

Pride,  that  is  the  thing  that  got  me; 

Riding  too  high  a  horse  I  guess; 

She  had  the  same  kind  of  pride  in  her, 

And  could  not  surrender,  and  confess. 

We  are  both  bearing  humiliation  now; 

She  gave  the  bitterness  to  me  to  drink; 

And  she  had  it  administered  in  another  way. 

From  which  she  will  no  doubt  shrink. 

CHAPTER  20 

Ruth  says  as  she  sees  David  coming: 

I  am  glad  I  have  not  told  them  I  am  not  married; 
The  humiliation  would  be  too  much  for  me, 

As  my  plans  are  now  so  badly  miscarried. 

Ruth,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well; 
While  you  are  showing  your  sadness, 

You  are  bearing  it  with  a  good  grace; 

And  your  spirit  still  radiates  that  same  gladness. 

Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  let  me  help  you, 

I  shall  be  glad  to  do  what  I  can; 

You  know  people  in  my  class  change  little, 

And  you  will  find  me  the  same  man. 

David,  there  is  nothing  much  to  tell; 

I  made  a  fool  of  myself  and  take  the  blame; 

While  I  consider  no  part  of  the  misconduct  mine, 


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I  should  have  taken  more  precaution  against  shame. 
He  is  a  man  with  a  good  veneer, 

And  I  did  not  try  to  see  into  his  soul; 

I  took  him  at  his  word,  and  he  rushed  me  off  my  feet, 
But  disillusion  brought  me  to  see  his  true  role; 

He  was  merely  exploiting  me  for  himself, 

And  has  been  here  to  take  me  back; 

But  I  am  sure  we  will  not  be  friends  again; 

Further  revelation  I  suppose  my  opinion  should  lack. 

I  am  determined  to  give  my  life  to  service, 

As  soon  as  I  can  get  started  on  my  way. 

And  all  I  ask  is  a  chance  to  help  others; 

I  must  use  my  self  up  while  hope  has  a  ray. 

Let  us  walk  in  the  garden,  Ruth, 

And  I  will  suggest  a  way  for  your  transition; 

1  am  able  now  to  help  you  much, 

And  will  arrange  for  you  at  our  factory  mission. 

There  you  will  find  an  opportunity, 

To  study  people,  and  methods  to  pursue; 

In  raising  their  burden  you  will  find, 

A  solace  for  your  own,  which  is  your  due. 

There  will  be  room  for  your  little  Rol, 

And  I  hope  he  will  be  a  comfort  to  you; 

I  hope  he  does  not  inherit  his  father’s  blood; 

The  future  will  give  you  enough  to  do. 

CHAPTER  21 


David: 

Ben  Gowing,  a  traveling  man  for  our  firm, 
Is  a  philosopher  in  his  own  way; 

He  amuses  me  at  times  with  his  talk 
About  married  life,  and  things  women  9ay. 

He  was  telling  me  how  he  gets  along; 

He  says  his  wife  is  a  gold  brick; 

I  give  her  all  the  rope  she  needs,  he  says, 

If  she  hangs  herself,  it  is  her  trick. 


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15? 


I  never  ask  her  questions  about  what  she  does, 

When  she  goes  to  town  for  half  a  day; 

When  she  wants  money  I  give  it  to  her; 

When  she  buys  anything,  I  never  tell  her  what  to  pay. 

We  were  married  eleven  years  ago; 

I  said  I  trust  you  fully; 

As  you  are  a  woman  of  virtue, 

I  am  sure  our  home  we  shall  not  sully. 

Of  course  there  is  a  chance  we  may  disagree; 

In  that  case  let’s  be  frank,  and  talk  it  over; 

Each  having  faith  in  the  other’s  integrity, 

And  leave  nothing  unsaid,  or  under  cover. 

When  the  children  came  on,  I  took  my  share, 

Assisting  her  in  every  way  I  could; 

And  she  appreciates  a  handy  man  around, 

Because  she  never  fails  to  use  me  good. 

He  is  such  a  fellow,  any  one  m§iy  say  what  they  please; 
I  asked  him  one  day  in  a  bantering  way, 

What  he  would  do  one  of  these  days. 

If  he  learned  his  angel  was  made  of  clay; 

He  answered  without  a  moment  of  hesitation, 

That  if  she  did  not  remain  true  to  him, 

She  could  go  in  peace  to  whom  she  would, 

And  he  would  never  molest  or  harm  them. 

Suppose  she  receives  some  affinity, 

When  you  are  not  at  home? 

Your  children  should  be  considered; 

Think  of  the  heritage  to  them  would  come? 

Well,  I  love  her  and  would  never  hurt  her, 

But  if  it  went  that  far, 

1  should  withhold  the  wifely  office; 

Further,  I  would  raise  no  bar; 

We  would  settle  down  to  a  fight  of  endurance; 

I  would  be  kind  as  ever  to  my  cook; 


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While  the  neighbors  would  never  know, 

I  would  not  give  her  a  husbandly  look. 

Of  course  one  cannot  tell  how  it  would  turn  out, 

But  I  would  center  entirely  on  myself, 

Considering  the  children  mine, 

And  live  to  preserve  the  truth  till  death. 

Ben  was  a  good  kind  of  fellow, 

So  I  asked  him  what  church  he  claimed; 

None  at  all,  was  his  reply, 

But  I  believe  in  every  one  God  has  named. 

But  how  do  you  know  God  names  them? 

You  do  not  hear  Him  shout  His  word  aloud. 

Ben: 

God  named  everthing  that  holds  Him  up, 

From  the  moment  His  cause  they  avowed. 

None  of  them  are  perfect, 

And  therefore  all  have  their  flaws; 

But  all  are  good, 

As  they  all  teach  God's  laws. 

Some  are  better  than  others, 

According  to  how  close  to  Him  they  live; 

But  the  one  farthest  away, 

Is  good  to  the  extent  their  hearts  they  give. 

I  love  them  all, 

And  I  help  them  when  I  have  a  chance  to  give  them  aught; 
The  difference  between  the  best  and  the  worst, 

After  all,  is  not  such  a  measure  as  might  be  thought. 

Ben  is  the  kind  of  man  I  like; 

He  makes  his  contacts  with  every  one 
With  a  view  to  helping  them, 

And  no  doubt  is  a  better  man  himself  when  each  day  is  done. 
I  am  sure  that  he  speaks  every  word, 

With  a  conscience  that  has  weighed  it  well; 

Like  a  little  brick  for  his  temple  of  life, 

And  a  fortification  against  hell. 


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They  are  good  men  to  have  around  the  factory; 
When  anything  needs  to  be  done, 

He  is  posted  as  to  our  aims  and  needs, 

And  never  fails  to  help  the  work  on. 

It  may  be  a  little  thing  as  encouraging  the  men; 
Or  if  he  sees  a  foreman  out  of  humor, 

He  goes  around  and  slaps  him  on  the  back, 

And  feels  out  the  cause,  or  rumor; 

Perhaps  he  is  falsely  informed  about  something; 
Or  has  misinterpreted  some  act; 

Ben  knows  where  we  are  all  headed  for, 

So  he  ingenuously  bolsters  him  up  with  a  fact. 

Ben  says  Christ  is  coming, 

And  he  is  getting  ready  for  the  day, 

By  preparing  the  world  to  receive  Him, 

With  every  word  he  has  opportunity  to  say. 

He  says  by  engaging  evil  against  the  Infinite, 

The  way  of  life  will  be  opened  wide; 

And  all  things  stand  as  they  should,  . 

Humanity  moving  on,  Son  of  Man  with  His  bride. 

I  ask  why  some  people  are  so  easy  to  satisfy, 
As  those  living  on  Ragged  Row? 

They  take  life  easy  and  have  fun, 

Living  in  dirt,  and  black  as  a  crow. 

Ben: 

People  are  happy  according  to  their  light; 
Those  people  would  be  unhappy  without  food; 
They  live  a  small  life  and  take  no  account, 

For  whether  things  are  evil  or  good. 

That  is  poor  territory  to  sow  for  good; 

Their  spring  of  life  is  well  nigh  petered  out; 
They  are  mostly  all  dead, 

Though  still  walking  about. 


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Ruth: 

David,  I  thank  you  for  your  offer  of  help; 

It  brings  a  new  ray  of  hope; 

I  will  not  tell  you  what  I  will  do, 

But  you  have  thrown  a  drowning  woman  a  rope; 
I  wish  I  could  tell  you  everything; 

If  you  will  promise  never  to  offer  me  love, 

I  will  reveal  my  humbled  estate, 

And  into  your  mission  I  will  move. 

Since  you  promise,  I  tell  you; 

I  am  humbled  to  a  woman  of  the  street; 

I  am  not  married,  and  I  have  a  child, 

And  it’s  father’s  name  I  loathe  to  repeat; 

But  my  soul  is  freed  of  shackles, 

And  while  my  name  is  still  thrown  down, 

I  am  free  and  full  of  fight, 

And  will  contend  for  a  noble  crown. 

I  will  tackle  that  job  on  Ragged  Row, 

And  burn  them  with  the  light, 

Till  they  have  to  crawl  and  walk  and  run, 

To  get  away  from  their  miserable  night. 

In  my  soul  I  sank  down  to  desolation; 

I  met  death  and  crossed  the  tide; 

Like  finding  a  surcease  from  labor, 

And  renewing  relations  where  I  did  reside. 

Death  is  a  separation, 

From  the  things  which  hold  us  down, 

So  reason  becomes  a  certainty  on  the  instant, 
Whereas  before  it  was  encumbered, 

And  needed  to  contrive  to  work  around; 

I  leap  a  great  gulf  of  indecision, 

To  a  decision  according  to  fact, 

Without  necessity  of  moving  my  load  about, 

A9  when  formerly  I  would  some  matter  attack; 

I  have  gone  on  into  elysium, 

A  place  where  the  soul  is  at  peace, 

No  longer  encumbered  with  maladjustment, 


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Awaiting  for  its  release; 

Maladjustment  consists  of  misdeed, 

Which  in  life  forces  conscience  to  condone, 

When  released  from  imprisoned  matter, 

Like  two  fingers  released  from  a  hole  made  for  one; 
My  death,  you  see,  I  have  discounted, 

By  facing  the  devil  in  the  fray; 

Counting  my  old  life  dead,  I  live  again, 

And  this  is  the  light  of  a  new  day. 

The  soul  grows  by  attraction, 

Of  free  energy  above  matter, 

And  the  matter  should  be  free, 

From  all  save  nature’s  control; 

Children  come  without  mental  conception, 

So  that  nature  may  fully  shape  their  soul; 

When  parents  begin  their  influence, 

To  force  false  conception  into  nature’s  plan, 

It  is  then  governmental  sin  commences. 

And  a  propitiation  is  prepared  for  man. 

With  these  false  conceptions  in  children, 

They  go  into  life  as  with  a  halt, 

And  it  takes  the  form  of  prejudice, 

When  such  a  one  is  guilty  of  a  fault. 

Other  original  sin  of  ancestors, 

Is  visited  in  a  physical  decree, 

By  punishing  the  off-spring  of  sinners, 

By  disease  of  parents,  as  being  forbidden  to  see; 
Such  sins  are  like  stabs  of  an  enemy, 

At  the  very  heart  of  the  race, 

And  it  behooves  the  victim  to  tie  fast, 

To  the  Creator,  and  lean  on  His  grace. 

The  victims  have  the  opportunity,  if  they  will. 

As  a  steel  spring  made  taut, 

They  may  release  it  to  the  sendee  of  their  kind, 

By  turning  away  from  vexation  and  sorrow, 

And  as  possessing  of  provender  bought, 

Using  their  inheritance  with  a  purified  mind; 


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And  this  reversal  will  change  all  vexation, 

To  peace  and  good  will,  they  will  find. 

Thus  the  darkness  of  sin  is  converted, 

Into  the  glories  of  man’s  estate; 

Such  become  angels  of  light  and  gladness; 

The  night  of  sorrow  is  made  void  of  hate, 

When  once  they  turn  their  personality, 

Toward  the  ways  and  deeds  of  the  good, 

Every  moment  adds  momentum  to  their  motion, 
And  more  pleasure  to  their  mood. 

A  mansion  is  built  in  heaven, 

For  a  votary  marked  for  hell 
By  those  who  brought  the  light  of  day, 

All  through  a  little  leaven, 

Served  by  a  soul  that  would  be  well, 

And  its  darkness  is  banished  away. 

Such  a  one  serves  as  a  catalyst, 

In  the  presence  of  those  in  the  dark, 

To  bring  them  to  the  place  of  union, 

Of  their  soul  to  a  noble  mark; 

Fitting  the  man  who  would  be  a  thief, 

To  carry  the  gold  to  the  mint; 

And  a  woman  who  would  be  a  social  sore, 

To  be  an  angel  from  mercy  sent; 

These  two  may  a  union  form, 

To  bear  the  torch  of  civilization  on, 

And  the  impetus  grows  as  the  morn, 

From  night  till  evil  is  gone. 

Cube  root  would  work  wonders  with  their  deeds, 
But  that  they  must  stop  and  concentrate; 

They  meet  the  tempter  on  the  way; 

He  makes  their  competence  look  like  scanty  need, 
And  this  need  of  theirs  finds  a  mate; 

Their  waste  begets  gloom  to  close  their  day. 

So  the  wages  of  the  way  we  take, 

Pays  us  in  the  currency  of  our  course, 

And  we  find  ourselves  back  at  the  place, 


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16 3 


We  so  happily  received  a  divorce. 

If  we  will  but  enthrone  our  faith, 

And  trust  the  infinite  source  for  power, 

Forgetting  ourselves  in  the  service  we  do, 

We  shall  make  the  space  of  a  year  in  an  hour. 

Our  attraction  will  draw  others  in  the  way, 

And  force  Satan  to  concentrate  on  us, 

Leaving  the  weaker  forces  of  life  free, 

To  move  the  will  of  nature  to  confess. 

David: 

Ruth,  you  are  talking  like  a  new  being, 

As  if  you  were  full  of  infinite  fire; 

I  am  sorry  you  made  me  promise, 

But  any  wish  of  yours  is  my  desire. 

Do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  help  you, 
Milking  and  driving  the  calves; 

And  how  that  old  ram  butted  me  over, 

My  head  in  the  milk,  and  nearly  broken  in  halves? 
Those  were  the  great  days  for  us; 

I  would  like  to  live  them  over  again; 

After  we  finished  we  would  hang  on  the  gate, 

Until  driven  home  by  your  dad,  or  the  rain. 

We  should  continue  to  be  good  friends,  at  least; 

1  need  you  and  you  need  me; 

Do  not  ever  think  of  Montis  for  a  minute, 

To  be  with  him  you  would  in  misery  be. 

He  is  one  of  those  who  cultivate  mastery, 

Which  is  good  when  properly  laid; 

But  underneath  he  distrusts  everything, 

He  wants  to  be  master  because  he  is  afraid. 

Men  through  false  living  and  dissipation, 

Reduce  their  lives  to  mere  imitation; 

Their  incapacity  becomes  such  they  believe  everything, 
According  to  their  false  standard  of  valuation; 


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They  measure  other  people  in  their  measure, 

Having  reduced  themselves  to  small  respect, 

They  have  no  respect  for  honorable  people; 

Worthy  appreciative  power  vanishes  through  neglect. 
They  take  their  days  of  empty  achievement, 

Which  measure  naught,  or  very  small, 

And  set  it  by  the  side  of  great  endeavor, 

And  berate  the  man  who  achieves,  and  saves  it  all; 
They  rate  all  men  who  hold  a  trust  as  thieves, 

As  they  themselves  would  be; 

They  set  a  price  and  method  on  procedure, 
According  to  the  conscience  light  they  see. 

They  relate  a  fact  and  think  it  true, 

The  main  facts  are  usually  there, 

But  swollen  in  some  and  shrunk  in  others. 

So  that  the  truth  is  by  no  means  bare. 

When  a  man  sets  the  price  he  will  sell  for, 

He  is  tempting  Satan  to  buy  him  in, 

And  if  he  has  a  value  worth  mention, 

Satan  will  reduce  it  to  begin. 

The  devil  knows  a  man  who  sets  a  price  on  his  soul, 
Has  put  himself  beyond  God’s  claim, 

And  sets  adversity  to  work  to  cheapen  it; 
Disheartened,  his  good  feels  full  of  shame; 

He  makes  him  feel  honor  is  a  hypocrite, 

And  duped  him  for  the  disgrace  he  got, 

Then  unless  falsehood  is  given  the  right-of-way, 

More  degradation  is  added  to  his  lot. 

At  last,  he  sells  for  a  mess  of  pottage, 

The  soul  he  offered  for  another  price; 

Then  Satan  sneers  and  kicks  him  in  the  gutter, 

With  a  piece  of  good,  though  tardy  advice. 

The  moral  is,  have  no  price.  The  immortal, 

Does  not  belong  to  you  to  sell; 

The  soul  belongs  to  God,  who  gave  it. 

And  for  its  treachery  will  send  it  to  hell. 


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CHAPTER  22 


David : 

This  Absul  is  not  a  common  devil; 

He  fixed  his  price,  then  bid  it  up, 

And  Satan  will  stand  by  him  to  the  last, 

And  give  his  vengeance  in  a  full  cup. 

We  think  him  the  leader  of  a  bunch  of  robbers, 
Who  have  a  band  in  every  city  in  the  land; 

They  pull  together  like  a  lot  of  pirates, 

And  certainly  are  ruled  by  a  master  hand. 

A  man  in  Chicago  will  locate  valuables, 

By  bribery,  and  every  other  means  to  rob; 

He  marks  well  the  way  and  preparation, 

And  a  man  from  St.  Paul  finishes  the  job. 

Detectives  say  he  swears  his  minions, 

With  an  oath  to  kill  at  his  command, 

Any  violator  of  instructions,  or  duplicity; 

And  he  kills  them  for  cowardice  with  his  own  hand. 
His  nerves  are  breaking  under  the  load, 

And  I  hear  he  tones  up  on  dope. 

So  he  will  not  go  long  before  the  reckoning, 

Which  always  stands  between  such  and  hope. 

Life  is  somewhat  similar  to  checkers; 

The  method  of  playing  is  the  same, 

Only  the  pieces  are  more  numerous, 

And  the  winnings  from  vice  to  fame. 

Some  play  with  honor  in  pawn, 

While  others  use  it  when  they  move; 

Thieves  move  your  piece,  and  call  it  their  own; 

Other  liars  claim  the  winnings  when  they  lose; 

The  top  piece  marks  a  measure  of  success, 

Which  like  prestige  gives  a  great  advantage, 

As  the  rulers  have  the  right  to  move  both  ways. 

But  beginners  may  not  recross  the  stage. 

In  this  game  of  life  we  play  also  the  Maker, 

Who  covers  His  side  of  the  board 


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Unless  we  play  fairly  our  portion, 

And  we  forfeit  our  reward. 

If  we  play  fair  He  shoves  the  leader, 

Then  all  we  need  do  is  follow  his  hand; 

And  each  move  He  makes,  follow, 

And  we’ll  win  everything  in  the  land; 

What  cares  He  for  the  winnings; 

He  makes  the  game  appear  hard  for  fun; 

If  we  trust  Him  and  follow  His  lead, 

Our  love  will  win  before  it  is  done. 

Take  these  questions  of  energy  and  matter; 

Our  chemist  says  energy  is  the  only  thing  that  exists, 
Except  time  and  space,  which  are  nothing, 

Until  energy  causes  them  to  persist. 

He  talks  about  a  little  energetic  unit, 

Breaking  over  a  little  square  of  space, 

Which  he  calls  an  electron; 

After  that  everything  moves  on  apace; 

The  elements  are  like  the  alphabet; 

They  spell  out  in  nature  like  letters  do; 

All  put  together  they  make  a  circle, 

Some  short,  some  longer,  get  thicker  as  they  brew; 

They  are  positive  according  to  quantity 
Of  energy  an  atom  may  attract; 

If  positive,  they  are  militant  moving  on; 

If  negative,  they  are  coming  back; 

They  have  affinity,  or  the  reverse, 

According  to  the  force  that  bears  them  on; 

If  positive,  they  are  borne  out  on  the  power  of  the  sun; 
If  negative,  gravitation  on  its  return. 

Some  elements  occupy  the  poles  of  the  circle; 

Some  the  equator,  and  others  between; 

Those  falling  under  conflicting  forces, 

Behave  eccentrically  it  will  be  seen; 

Thus  elements  of  close  affinity, 

Are  borne  by  opposite  force; 

The  weight  of  the  universe  holds  them  together; 

They  are  hard  to  separate,  of  course. 


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167 


The  nucleus  of  an  atom  gets  its  energy  under  way. 
And  it  takes  a  mighty  force  to  break  through; 

It  can  stand  a  lot  of  punishment  and  heat, 

And  never  fail  a  call  when  there  is  work  to  do. 
Some  elements  are  like  comets  in  their  behavior. 
While  others  as  planet  or  satellite; 

Conglomerated  together,  they  become, 

A  mass  of  mixed  and  turbulent  fight. 

CHAPTER  23. 

David: 

Ruth,  any  time  you  need  money, 

Use  one  of  these  drafts,  and  I  will  OK  all  you  ask; 

I  am  a  conservative  spender, 

And  covering  your  wants  will  be  a  small  task. 

I  am  leaving  tomorrow, 

And  until  I  see  you  again,  it  is  adieu; 

I  hope  you  never  feel  you  are  a  burden, 

As  it  is  a  pleasure  for  me  to  serve  you. 

CHAPTER  24. 

Absul  is  back  at  his  old  tricks, 

The  service  of  militant  sin; 

Any  evil  cogitation  enters  his  head, 

His  ambition  is  at  once  to  begin; 

At  first  he  had  a  little  trouble, 

Deciding  what  evil  would  best  suit; 

Now  his  principal  trouble  is  adding  them  on, 

As  fast  as  he  can  find  a  recruit. 

He  has  special  branches  with  foremen, 

For  boot-leggers,  thieves,  and  other  crooks; 

The  biggest  trouble  he  has  is  trusting  them, 

As  it  is  too  dangerous  to  keep  books. 

He  finances  a  new  bunch  of  second  story  men, 

And  soon  finds  they  are  beating  him; 

He  is  equal  to  look  after  them  however, 

As  his  trained  assassins  are  in  fighting  trim. 

A  bunch  of  competitors  a  little  sore, 


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Because  he  liad  usurped  their  trade, 

Engaged  to  peddle  a  lot  of  his  rum, 

And  kept  all  the  money  they  made; 

He  put  his  detectives  on  the  job, 

Each  followed  by  a  man  rags  to  buy, 

When  they  located  one  of  them, 

The  ragman  sentenced  him  to  die. 

He  got  them  all  before  a  week, 

And  nobody  seems  to  care, 

As  not  a  witness  can  be  found, 

That  knows  a  thing  that  happened  there. 

He  has  his  diamond  thieves,  and  bond  thieves, 

And  thieves  who  do  the  forging; 

The  corporation  gets  half  the  swag, 

So  Absul’s  treasury  is  gorging; 

He  pays  his  attorneys  by  the  year, 

To  keep  him  over  the  law; 

And  if  things  go  on  this  way  very  long, 

The  land  will  hold  him  in  awe. 

People  seem  to  admire  nothing  like  success, 

Most  of  them  never  consider  the  method; 

Right  does  not  mean  so  much  to  many  men, 

They  think  justice  is  dead,  and  there  is  no  God. 

One  thing  about  wrong  they  do  not  see; 

That  is  that  every  wrong  offends  a  right, 

And  the  people  who  are  offended  in  time  will  be 
Up  in  arms  for  vengeance  with  all  their  might; 

They  may  not  proceed  directly  to  execution, 

But  the  widow’s  prayers  are  effective  in  winning  a  fight. 

Absul’s  abomination  is  brimming  full, 

And  the  day  of  regulation  is  nigh, 

When  overloaded  with  distrust  and  suspicion, 

He  breaks  under  the  load  he  has  piled  so  high. 

As  usual,  it  is  not  a  big  thing  that  does  it, 

But  one  of  the  little  things  kept  piling  on; 

A  beggar  asks  him  for  a  dime  to  buy  coffee; 

In  his  humor  he  curses  him  to  be  gone. 


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169 


The  beggar  jabs  his  crutch  forward  to  go  in  haste, 
As  Absul  turns  aside  to  catch  his  car; 

His  foot  caught  the  crutch  and  he  fell  forward, 
While  the  moving  auto  his  chest  did  mar. 

CHAPTER  25 

Ruth  moved  into  David's  missions, 

Where  she  found  a  field  for  her  years; 

Though  marriage  was  put  behind  her, 

David  hoped  and  waited,  while  she  held  her  tears. 

Ruth: 

David,  the  old  Ruth  is  dead, 

And  is  buried  with  Absul’s  dust; 

The  Christ  lives  now  instead, 

And  to  my  Father  I  shall  keep  the.  trust; 

The  new  life  that  was  born  within, 

As  a  wheel  in  another  wheel. 

Shall  move  me,  and  be  myself, 

As  vicariously  it  shall  live  and  feel; 

I  know  not  all  the  ways  of  the  Infinite, 

But  I  do  know  the  work  of  His  hand, 

And  as  He  works,  so  shall  I  work. 

What  He  speaks,  I  shall  command. 

I  am  poor,  I  have  no  place  to  lay  my  head, 

Yet  my  heart  is  full  of  gain, 

And  I  am  rich  beyond  measure, 

With  the  opportunities  that  remain. 

Out  of  my  bountiful  riches, 

I  shall  heal  the  wounds  of  the  race; 

Like  a  fountain  of  eternal  water, 

My  heart  bubbles  with  grace; 

The  poor,  the  lame,  and  the  blind, 

They  are  my  wards  and  inheritance, 

And  assist  me  in  the  things  that  I  do, 

To  free  them  from  their  ignorance. 

A  widow  of  a  no-account  vagabond, 

Who  might  work,  as  she  lives  alone, 


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A  touch  of  friendliness  brought  to  her, 

To  move  her  is  service  well  done. 

I  met  a  man  on  the  street 
I  knew  in  my  former  days; 

He  does  not  speak  to  me  now, 

Which  is  a  gain  for  my  present  ways; 

We  are  well  rid  of  such  folks; 

Acquaintances  seeking  to  climb, 

As  that  kind  of  people  you  know 
Bear  you  down  as  they  ascend. 

The  friends  remaining  when  you  are  down, 

Are  friends  to  their  own  loyalty,  not  you; 

And  may  be  depended  upon  for  honest  worth, 

And  will  rejoice  with  you  when  you  get  your  due. 
There  is  Mr.  Fuller  on  Ragged  Row, 

A  loyal  man  to  all,  a  jewel; 

He  tries  to  help  every  one  and  hurt  none; 

A  friend  for  keeps,  not  a  renewal. 

He  knows  the  value  of  prestige, 

And  might  live  in  more  pomp, 

But  he  lives  where  he  can  serve; 

At  helping  the  youngsters  he  is  strong, 

Instead  of  a  lot  of  foolish  driving; 

A  rich  reward  he  will  deserve. 

Starling  Goforth,  though  married, 

Is  more  lecherous  than  wise; 

He  should  convert  his  energies  to  virtue, 

But  that  kind  is  hard  to  advise. 

Old  Bugbear  thinks  he  is  a  devil, 

And  takes  pride  in  his  iron  will; 

Never  offer  such  a  one  anything, 

As  they  are  fattened  to  kill. 

In  that  muddle  of  human  grossness, 
Everything  of  sin  may  be  found; 

Girls  who  work  and  go  out  evenings; 

Boot-legers  and  frauds  litter  the  ground. 

In  that  contaminating  mixture, 

I  expect  to  labor  and  succeed; 


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171 


Planting  a  heart  of  virtue, 

In  every  breast  that  will  heed. 

Without  material  and  little  money, 

I  must  try  to  get  the  loafers  to  work; 

With  good  council  and  friendship, 

Visiting  any  place  where  sin  may  lurk. 

This  is  a  job  of  patient  persistence, 

With  a  spirit  that  burns  like  a  blaze; 

Never  hesitating  when  flaunted  by  evil, 

And  keep  working  under  Satan's  gaze. 

Wealth  takes  a  lot  of  forms; 

These  folks  who  think  they  are  poor, 

Are  rich  in  nature’s  providing; 

A  gold  mine  inside  their  door; 

How  foolish  it  is  to  be  lazy; 

Ignorance  is  a  crime  against  life; 

Indigent  people  sit  and  wait  for  help, 

And  help  cannot  come  into  their  strife; 

One  person  crying  for  assistance, 

Lies,  tattles,  and  brawls  between  wails; 
Destroying  the  fruits  of  her  neighbor, 

By  filling  her  life  with  false  tales. 

There  can  be  no  peace  in  the  heart, 

When  the  life  is  full  of  brawls; 

Some  way  must  be  found  to  bring  truth  in, 
Before  they  will  stop  their  squalls. 

Such  is  the  world  Christ  is  coming  to, 
Taken  with  the  vice  of  the  rich. 

With  their  waste  and  fraud  and  idleness, 
Both  extremes  are  bad,  but  worst  is  which? 
As  you  know,  the  rich  who  loaf  and  cheat, 
And  the  poor  who  fuss  and  beg, 

They  are  both  the  same  kind  of  folks, 

All  ticks  on  the  producer’s  leg. 

No  wonder  Christ  calls  for  service, 

As  a  test  for  those  who  would  be  great; 

The  parasites  who  so  often  claim  greatness, 


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Are  drawn  from  this  keg  of  hate. 

There  is  no  peace  when  ruled  by  madness, 

And  no  place  in  the  heart  for  conscience, 

When  those  who  rule  are  strangers  to  justice, 
And  authority  adds  offense  to  offense. 

I  will  begin  by  walking  by  them, 

A  stranger  passing  their  door; 

I  will  carry  the  sweets  of  good-fellowship, 

For  the  babes  playing  on  the  floor; 

A  kind  word  and  a  smile  to  the  lonely, 

A  soft  hand  on  the  head  of  the  boy; 

I  will  study  to  make  them  love  me, 

By  adding  little  bits  to  their  joy. 

With  patience  and  much  persuasion, 

I  will  organize  a  little  band, 

To  walk  and  talk  and  tell  stories, 

While  I  hold  them  by  the  hand. 

I  will  make  them  long  for  heaven, 

By  showing  them  the  things  they  need, 

And  how  heaven  is  filled  with  it; 

As  they  follow  on  I  will  lead. 

The  crowd  will  grow  more  and  more, 

And  to  the  momentum  I  will  add  my  pull; 

By  and  by  they  will  love  me  and  believe  me, 
As  the  fruits  growT  round  and  full. 

Through  this  I  bear  Bugbear  with  patience, 
And  endure  the  insults  of  Fraud; 

The  rain  today  will  bring  sun  tomorrow, 

Making  greater  opportunity  virtue  to  laud. 

The  hotter  the  fires  of  hell  get, 

The  closer  I  cling  to  the  right; 

Sometimes  I  think  if  it  were  hotter, 

I  could  burn  up  in  fight. 

Strange  unions  are  brought  about  by  fate, 
Which  prove  the  oneness  of  all  things, 

When  poor  girls  find  rich  men’s  sons  for  mates, 


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173 


And  milk-maids  hobnob  with  kings. 

Poor  Lovelady’s  daughter  will  spin  in  abandon, 
With  the  mighty  banker’s  son; 

While  Prince  Oil  King  selects  at  random, 

A  sop  from  the  maiden  he  won; 

The  Oil  King  princess  plays  hooky, 

With  a  smart  masher  about  town; 

All  thinking  they  are  having  their  day, 

When  it  is  the  middle  wall  breaking  down. 

Two  from  two  leaves  nothing, 

And  that  is  what  is  left  of  such  folks; 

When  they  have  a  final  reckoning, 

They  will  see  on  humanity  they  were  joke9. 


I  must  seek  to  improve  my  position, 
As  they  are  getting  ferocious  and  grim; 
I  will  draw  on  David  for  munition, 

And  establish  a  school  for  teaching  them. 


CHAPTER  26 


David: 

Good  morning,  Mr.  Logan,  how  are  you,  Mr.  Dave? 
I  see  that  bad  man  Montis  is  dead; 

He  sure  struck  it  lucky; 

Made  a  million  just  using  his  head. 


I  do  not  see  how  you  get  that? 

A  man  living  as  he  has  done, 

Is  not  a  lucky  man  at  all; 

With  his  brain  honor  he  might  have  won. 

He  lived  a  contemptible  life, 

And  always  lived  in  fear; 

Made  enemies  every  time  he  turned  around; 
Dead  now,  we  are  all  glad,  not  a  tear. 

He  had  a  great  deal  of  ability, 

But  he  put  it  all  to  ill  account, 

And  piled  up  evil  on  evil. 

Until  his  debt  is  an  awful  amount. 

You  may  not  figure  the  hereafter; 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


Lots  of  people  try  to  do  everything  here, 

But  life  will  sure  strike  a  balance; 

The  careless  and  wilful  evil-doers  pay  dear. 

Let’s  consider  some  of  those  people; 

Inside  of  the  law  they  are  just  as  bad; 

The  broker  who  works  merely  for  profit; 

The  capitalist  who  spends  what  his  father  had; 
All  folks  who  spend  and  produce  nothing; 
Women  who  live  mostly  in  bed, 

Burning  gas  going  no  where  in  particular; 
Massaging  and  marcelling  their  head; 

What  service  do  they  for  a  living? 

Why  should  society  bear  them  around? 

They  are  parasites  adding  to  the  load, 

Would  be  more  of  service  in  the  ground. 

Another  class  that  is  worth  a  minimum, 
The  fellow  who  works  and  spends  with  waste; 
Their  dissipation  reduces  them  to  want, 

And  they  stand  in  the  way  of  all  haste; 

Slackers,  that  instead  of  moving  on, 

They  drag  back  on  the  line, 

Making  necessary  for  another  to  carry, 

Adding  to  my  load  and  thine. 

When  civilization  is  more  perfect, 

We  shall  all  be  a  committee  of  one, 

To  see  that  every  other  man  does  his  part, 

As  well  as  see  that  his  own  is  done. 

When  two  men  grinding  at  the  mill, 

One  shall  take  the  toll  of  his  lord, 

The  other  his  duty  to  fulfill, 

Shall  correct  him  in  a  word. 

All  men  should  be  the  keeper, 

Of  all  that  all  others  possess; 

Not  for  perversion,  or  misuse, 

But  to  support  the  law  of  progress. 

Those  people  who  go  burning  gasoline, 

Drinking  and  smoking  to  no  use, 


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175 


Will  be  listed  among  the  wasters, 

That  impede,  and  make  social  abuse. 

But  out  of  the  root  of  Jesse, 

A  stream  of  life  went  forth. 

That  shall  grow  and  fill,  and  the  worthless  spill, 
Until  the  world  shall  be  full  of  His  worth. 

Many  men  through  cupidity, 

Though  rated  as  men  of  power, 

Are  wasters  of  the  rankest  sort, 

And  deserve  their  power  not  an  hour. 

All  things  have  value,  and  should  be, 

And  those  who  consider  less, 

Are  the  wasters  who  do  not  know, 

The  value  they  possess. 

The  possessors  of  great  hills  and  hollows, 
Who  pray  for  level  ground, 

In  time  shall  see  more  value, 

Than  any  land  to  be  found. 

He  who  has  influence  with  the  poor, 

And  frets  because  he  cannot  collect, 

Is  a  knave  with  lack  of  vision; 

He  should  cultivate  love  and  pay  neglect. 

The  poor  are  in  disorder, 

For  lack  of  order  in  their  mind, 

And  those  they  believe  in  lack  the  honor, 

To  help  them  their  order  to  find. 

If  the  nation  of  a  hundred  million, 

Possessed  a  majority  of  one  mind, 

They  could  the  others  tell  to  go  hang, 

And  they  their  own  destiny  find; 

That  is  intoxication  of  power, 

When  wisdom  loses  her  way; 

They  find  their  destiny  is  in  hell, 

When  meekness  quits  and  despots  have  their  day; 
That  is  more  waste  for  the  many, 


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When  they  disregard  the  rights  of  one, 

As  ninety-nine  against  one  leaves  ninety-eight, 

For  the  hundred  when  the  fight  was  begun. 

The  pretensions  of  one  man  pervert  many, 

When  seeking  more  than  his  own; 

We  should  therefore  seek  no  more  than  our  due, 

No  matter  from  whom  it  may  come. 

There  is  value  in  honor;  there  is  value  in  strength; 
There  is  value  in  being  widely  known; 

We  all  have  value  in  our  reach  at  length; 

If  no  one  else  knows  mine,  it  is  safe  at  home. 

Every  man  should  seek  the  affinity, 

For  which  his  value  is  cast; 

In  his  way  he  should  find  it  and  mind  it; 

Hold  and  increase  it  until  the  last. 

One  man’s  value  lies  in  digging  wells; 

Another  in  speaking  the  truth; 

A  third  one  sells,  fourth  gloom  dispels; 

Altogether  with  God  we  possess  eternal  youth. 

Then  let  the  foot  get  into  the  shoe, 

And  the  leg  into  the  right  place; 

With  the  head  in  the  shoe,  less  work  we  will  do; 

On  the  shoulders  it  rules  with  grace. 

Some  men  use  their  face  for  such  offense, 

That  when  nature  needs  a  part, 

The  face  is  so  disfigured  and  estranged, 

Posterity  uses  it  for  a  heart; 

The  nose  gets  mistaken  for  an  eye, 

While  it  pries  around  into  things  it  should  not  be, 

And  nature  fits  upside  down  in  the  eye-socket  a  nose; 
We  go  trying  to  smell  out  what  we  should  see. 

Such  is  life  with  ambition  misplaced, 

And  all  mankind  struggling  for  things  they  do  not  need. 
Neglecting  things  their  thirst  has  disgraced, 

Often  substituting  poison  for  feed. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


17  7 


So  confused  are  we  through  our  sins, 

That  only  one  way  remains  to  get  well; 

Follow  the  course  of  the  divine  plan, 

Waiting  on  our  own  rights  when  we  cannot  tell. 
Nature  in  the  building  of  a  man, 

Like  a  man  in  building  of  a  ship, 

Goes  ahead  with  his  work  by  the  plan, 

But  sin  crosses  the  parts  and  makes  her  trip. 

So  we  in  misplacing  our  thoughts, 

May  be  starting  on  a  course  that  will  curse; 

Not  so  much  the  present  state  we  have  bought, 

But  the  state  of  our  posterity  will  be  worse. 

Life,  when  properly  balanced,  will  flow  equal, 
For  the  peasant  as  much  as  the  king; 

While  the  king  may  have  greater  talent, 

Still  the  peasant  will  be  equal  in  everything; 

Like  atoms  and  clocks,  also  men, 

May  be  equal  in  appearance  and  poise; 

But  one  may  be  wound  a  great  deal  tighter, 

And  make  an  awful  lot  more  noise. 

So  false  standards  in  society, 

Wind  the  wrong  man  to  a  tight  content; 

He  turns  his  energy  loose  for  destruction, 

And  destroys  the  winders  without  consent. 

We  do  a  good  deal  of  winding  of  each  other; 

If  your  aim  is  to  strive  for  the  good, 

You  are  not  wise  if  you  help  to  wind, 

Some  other  man  than  your  mood. 

Thus  action  and  reaction  of  false  standards, 

As  gamblers  outside  the  law’s  aim, 

All  money,  or  things  of  value  commandeered, 
Should  forfeit  to  the  common  gain; 

Since  law  should  not  destroy  itself, 

It  is  mete  that  those  who  live  under  it, 

Possess  all  they  own  with  its  good  will, 

Otherwise,  as  spies  they  would  sunder  it. 


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If  we  would  help  right  these  things 
Take  God  by  one  hand,  your  fellow  with  the  other, 
When  God  sends  His  impulse  to  you, 

Send  it  on  through  to  your  brother. 

To  accomplish  things  for  good, 

We  should  picture  it  in  the  mind, 

Then  let  the  impulse  flow 
To  the  course  we  have  destined. 

CHAPTER  27 

David: 

Ruth,  we  have  spent  many  years, 

And  I  have  delight  in  your  work's  increase; 

I  did  not  know  so  much  energy  could  flow, 

And  one  woman  so  much  service  release; 

You  have  made  song  birds  out  of  dozens  of  lasses, 

That  probably  would  have  otherwise  been  crows; 

And  you  have  taught  cooking  and  the  art  of  cleanliness, 
And  your  influence  continuously  grows. 

I  love  to  think  of  the  happiness, 

You  have  brought  to  many  homes, 

By  putting  their  resources  into  action, 

Making  bread-winners  out  of  drones; 

You  have  helped  them  stretch  their  dollar, 

By  the  proper  economy  in  spending, 

To  cover  a  much  greater  need, 

And  cutting  off  some  of  vice’s  meed. 

You  have  taught  them  how  love  and  a  smile, 

Will  often  heal  a  flaw, 

Which  nagged  and  improperly  treated, 

Makes  wider  -breach  in  the  law. 

You  have  taught  them  how  to  grow, 

From  little  to  greater  things; 

As  patience  and  virtue  applied, 

Out  of  common  men  sometimes  make  kings. 

You  have  not  failed  in  showing, 

How  retribution  will  return  and  punish, 

If  they  treat  their  neighbors  wrong, 

Or  fail  their  children  to  admonish. 


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179 


You  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  buffeting, 

From  the  boors  you  met  on  the  way, 

But  you  have  turned  the  other  cheek, 

And  with  a  smile  returned  their  pay. 

Your  enemies  have  been  a  plenty, 

But  you  put  them  all  to  flight; 

They  could  not  stand  your  heavenly  smile, 

And  your  eyes  that  shine  with  a  light. 

Your  work  has  transformed  a  hole  of  vice, 

Into  a  place  of  good  breeding, 

By  the  touch  of  a  hand  of  love, 

Here  and  there  where  it  was  needing. 

There  is  no  combating  a  woman  like  you, 

As  they  have  no  reason  for  reply; 

When  you  go  in  the  gloom  flies; 

Law-breakers  and  loafers  hie. 

Do  you  remember  how  old  Bloakum  threw  you  out. 
When  you  were  trying  to  help  his  wife? 

He  had  beaten  her  up  while  drunk; 

She  was  yelling  for  her  life. 

You  went  in  to  persuade  -him,  and  he  hurled  you  out, 
So  hard  you  nearly  burst; 

I  was  mad  enough  that  day  to  fight, 

But  the  police  got  there  first. 

We  are  getting  old  now,  we’ll  soon  pass  over; 

We  had  better  turn  the  work  over  to  younger  hands, 

And  give  them  a  chance  to  use  our  experience, 

And  we  will  sit  around  and  give  commands. 

While  we  have  never  gotten  married, 

I  have  always  loved  you  that  much, 

And  no  matter  what  arrangement  heaven  is, 

Without  you,  heaven  for  me  cannot  be  such. 

I  hope  God  is  good  to  me, 

And  lets  me  live  to  the  day  you  go; 

After  that  I  would  not  stay  a  minute; 

If  God  wants  to  please  me,  He  shall  know. 

I  want  to  cross  the  bar  with  you, 


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Right  in  front  of  me  for  a  light, 

And  if  there  be  a  place  where  we  fly, 

I  want  to  follow  you  in  your  flight. 

If  heaven  is  a  place  where  people  are  rewarded, 
For  the  deeds  they  have  said  and  done, 

If  our  aim  was  as  good  as  our  intentions, 

God  has  prepared  a  great  estate  with  what  we  have  won. 

CHAPTER  28 

THE  JUDGEMENT 

The  voice  of  a  mighty  angel’s  trumpet, 

Shook  the  heavens  and  all  below; 

And  great  excitement  prevailed  throughout; 

As  the  final  day  of  reckoning, 

Prepared  for  violators  of  the  law, 

Is  come  into  time  with  a  shout. 

From  the  heights  and  depths 
Of  the  mountains  and  the  seas, 

All  people  with  one  accord, 

Arise  with  shouts  or  wailing, 

At  the  prospect  of  ease  or  disease, 

That  awaits  the  triumphant  concord. 

For  all  who  died  still  lacking, 

Of  the  earthly  reward  they  had  earned; 

And  all  who  had  taken  without  regard, 

Are  called  to  hear  a  message, 

To  be  determined  as  it  is  learned, 

1  9 

What  measure  to  deal,  of  punishment  or  reward. 


A  voice  shakes  the  universe, 

Like  unto  which  no  ear  has  heard; 

He  is  speaking  to  every  man  of  every  race; 
And  all  hear  His  message, 


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181 


From  babes  unborn  to  beard, 

And  appear  to  stand  before  His  face. 


Truth,  my  servant  immortal, 

Bring  hither  your  records  of  time; 

Space,  be  folded  up,  and  ordered; 

One  cycle  of  Judgement  is  begun: 

Order,  throughout  all  matter  governmental, 

Put  all  your  energies  in  line; 

Be  every  move  and  effort  recorded. 

Adjustment  to  all  We  recompense; 
Mercy  who  employ  Council’s  defense. 

Justice  now  be  served; 

Hold  and  never  cease, 

In  the  place  where  it  is  fixed  and  bound; 

Ages  are  stored  on  margins  of  pages: 

All  are  punished  as  they  deserved; 

Heaven  opens  to  all  from  care  release; 

Pleasures  according  to  the  mercy  found. 


I  looked  in  the  great  commotion, 

And  saw  the  spirit  of  the  Eternal  in  flight; 

His  coming  had  brought  hell  to  evil  doers, 

And  His  going  left  heaven  for  all  who  do  right. 


Thus  the  judgment  compassed, 

In  the  twinkle  of  an  eye, 

And  all  souls  find  their  own  place; 

The  souls  of  the  wicked  to  punishment, 
As  the  righteous  mount  on  high, 

All  compelled  by  the  Creator’s  face. 

If  we  would  know  the  measure  of  some, 
Who  answered  disolution’s  call, 


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We  might  analyze  in  detail  as  they  come, 

Whether  they  were  to  rise,  or  to  fall. 

The  secret  of  pleasure  or  punishment, 

Lies  in  each  soul  enclosed, 

So  that  if  our  balance,  or  unbalance  is  great, 

We  enjoy  the  balance,  and  suffer  the  unbalance  deposed. 

The  haters  of  Christ  shall  see  Him  reign, 

As  like  a  comet  they  dash  and  run; 

They  rage  in  their  envy  afar, 

While  He  moves  on  like  a  sun. 

The  gamblers  who  still  have  their  sin, 

Now  want  to  gamble  and  lose; 

But  they  never  cease  to  win, 

As  they  sink  deeper  in  the  ooze. 

Like  an  avalanche  they  draw  the  sins  of  better  men, 

Whom  they  cheated  and  cured  of  their  fault; 

As  action  and  reaction  are  reciprocal, 

The  better  things  of  the  gambler  were  by  better  men  caught. 

The  banker  who  assesses  usurious  rate, 

Or  fleeces  the  man  he  finds  in  distress, 

Finds  himself  surrounded  by  more  power, 

And  in  hjs  mind  he  loses,  even  his  wife’s  caress. 

The  laborer  who  cheats  his  employer, 

Is  working  overtime  without  pay; 

While  a  niggardly  employer  frets  against  the  destroyer, 
Fearing  he  is  paying  labor  for  a  rainy  day. 

So  they  go  in  all  the  dominion  below, 

The  evils  of  life  inversely  swell; 

While  in  the  regions  above  the  reverse  is  love, 

And  good  is  increased  for  those  who  do  well. 

CHAPTER  30 

Avary  Montis,  step  forth; 

You  lost  by  the  breadth  of  a  hair; 

You  did  good  work  and  added  no  wrong, 

But  you  did  it  because  for  self-love  you  did  care. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


183 


Your  punishment  shall  be  in  silence, 

To  carry  and  bear  a  load, 

In  the  service  of  your  enemy  forever; 

If  you  move  or  go  unbidden,  you  get  a  goad. 

Perhaps  you  will  carry  water, 

To  those  who  think  they  are  hot, 

And  when  they  see  it,  they  want  a  drink; 

It  makes  them  a  great  deal  hotter 
To  pour  it  out  before  them; 

Though  the  water  is  imaginary,  it  makes  them  think. 

The  spirit  is  intense 

According  to  the  lives  they  did  live; 

And  you  are  to  play  around  the  edge, 

And  annoy  those  who  saw  need,  and  would  not  give; 
Their  conscience  then  told  them  to, 

And  their  selfishness  overweighed; 

Now  conscience  tries  to  lift  the  selfish  load, 

And  to  give  they  would, 

But  by  impotence  their  hand  is  stayed. 

Since  in  yonder  world  you  feared  a  call  would  come 
For  labor  when  they  had  not  the  hire, 

So  here  you  have  stored  this  fear, 

Of  working  without  pay;  that  is  your  fire. 

To  a  bawdy  house  go  as  you  did  in  life, 

And  see  beautiful  women  scantily  clad; 

Your  passion  can  imagine  great  heat, 

But  no  measure  of  relief  can  be  had; 

The  women  in  the  flame  of  their  lust  and  shame, 
Cannot  cease  their  trade  to  ply; 

They  are  burned  in  the  fires  of  their  own  desires. 

Still  they  cannot  cease  to  fry. 

The  official  who  sold  his  office  for  favor, 

By  securing  the  appointment  of  a  friend, 

When  better  men  were  waiting  for  hire, 

His  fear  will  eat  upon  him  through  the  night, 

As  he  sees  shallow  flatterers  secure  the  end, 

He  seeks  for  good  men;  that  stirs  his  ire. 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


The  physican  who  betrays  his  patient  to  drugs, 

Is  dying  in  fear  of  pain, 

Lest  some  other  physician  take  his  place. 

And  collects  his  dishonest  gain. 

The  murderer  fears  the  face  of  the  victim, 

He  despatched  before  its  time; 

He  even  sees  the  bloody  shirt; 

While  the  laws  connive  to  add  punishment, 

To  his  labors  in  grime, 

While  he  thinks  he  eats  filth  and  dirt. 

The  loafer  who  spends  his  time  in  ease, 

Neglecting  all  that  he  might  do, 

Is  floating  as  foam  on  a  sea  of  disease, 

Hating  the  odor  and  exposure  put  to. 

The  robber  imagines  himself  being  robbed, 

Of  the  things  he  loves  while  he  toils, 

He  plans  to  escape  and  revenge; 

His  remorse  is  made  hot  by  the  dragon  foils. 

The  lecherous  man  who  seducement  planned, 

And  in  life  would  virtue  foul, 

Has  his  labors  increased  where  all  hope  is  deceased, 
And  he  can  only  lie  to  himself,  and  howl. 

The  liar  lies,  and  in  humiliation  sees, 

That  his  lies  do  not  deceive, 

As  all  these  other  liars  know, 

No  liar  about  anything  to  believe. 

Now  Avary,  in  all  of  your  work, 

It  is  your  place  to  contrive, 

To  put  everything  where  it  cannot  be  reached, 

And  thwart  them  as  they  connive. 

Rol  Klammer,  my  lad,  you  made  good; 

Your  sins,  though  original,  were  paid, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


185 


By  Him  on  whom  your  love  leaned; 

For  happiness  your  little  cup  was  made. 

Simp  Montis,  you  nearly  lost  the  race, 

And  would  have  but  for  location; 

A  greater  evil  than  your  own  overshadowed  you, 
And  you  fled  to  another  vocation. 

The  Counsel  intervenes  for  you, 

With  a  credit  paid  in  blood, 

Which  overweighs  every’  transgression, 

And  you  have  a  measure  of  good. 

Jack  Logan,  you  lose  by  a  margin; 

You  should  have  won  a  crown, 

But  selfishness,  together  with  affinity 
For  dishonest  gain  pulled  you  down. 

While  you  committed  no  act  of  a  criminal, 

Still  you  longed  for  something  they  got; 

And  this  shaped  your  soul  to  serve, 

As  your  wish  has  cast  your  lot. 

You  shall  have  charge  of  punishing 
Those  you  would  have  liked  to  have  been; 

Thus  you  afflict  your  devotion  in  mind, 

As  you  add  the  sting  to  other  men. 

Ben  Gowing,  you  are  a  man  of  love; 

Your  work  was  never  finished, 

But  the  good  you  did  kept  moving  on, 

And  great  evil  in  your  day  was  diminished. 
Your  ways  were  the  ways  of  the  mighty; 

You  made  war  against  the  strong; 

You  have  added  happiness  and  much  good  will, 
By  your  battle  against  the  wrong. 

Much  pleasure  is  added  to  your  face, 

By  the  friends  you  helped  to  bring, 

And  no  doubt  you  have  much  joy, 

In  their  music  as  they  sing; 

Your  Counselor  will  esteem  you  worthy, 

And  much  pleasure  in  your  concord; 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


The  truth  you  know  will  continue  to  grow, 

As  you  learn  the  magic  word; 

The  wonders  of  heaven  so  extensive, 

You  shall  take  a  measure  of  good, 

And  though  you  shuffle  and  scuffle  for  mastery, 
You  could  not  grasp  it  all  if  you  would. 

Ben,  make  heaven  your  own; 

You  have  a  great  sphere  to  compass; 

You  might  have  had  more,  but  you  took  it  easy, 
But  think  no  more  of  that,  alas! 

Cary  Montis,  you  had  a  hard  fight, 

And  you  almost  lost  your  future, 

Only  a  Savior’s  mercy  kept  you  up; 

All  for  marrying  your  carnal  nature. 

You  left  your  home  and  family, 

Without  preparing  for  your  day, 

And  fell  with  other  careless  people, 

And  everything  but  your  birthright  passed  away; 
You  lost  your  life’s  influence  and  labor, 

And  would  have  lost  your  oldest  son, 

Only  another  virtue  picked  him  up, 

After  the  work  of  hell  had  begun. 

For  all  of  your  careless  living, 

Your  home  is  not  large  you  see, 

As  you  made  no  preparation, 

For  things  as  they  might  be; 

While  you  have  only  a  little, 

You  never  had  any  more; 

So  if  you  had  much  without  earning. 

The  extra  would  be  a  bore. 

Your  place  equals  your  preparation, 

And  you  are  balanced  in  your  bliss, 

So  not  a  great  light  strikes  you; 

But  you  are  used  to  such  as  this. 

Absul  Montis,  you  came  here, 

With  a  great  load  on  your  account, 

And  to  pay  the  last  farthing  is  the  sentence, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


187 


With  the  interest  on  the  amount. 

You  seek  a  place  and  a  kingdom, 

And  where  you  go  there  is  power, 

But  you  shall  sweat  fire  in  the  endeavor, 
And  from  the  lash  you  never  cower. 

Your  spirit  is  built  for  endurance; 

Indeed,  you  wound  yourself  up  tight; 

And  now  for  the  work  in  hand, 

You  will  need  all  your  might. 

No  peace,  no  rest,  no  kindliness; 

You  never  wanted  them  over  there; 

Here  you  shall  feel  their  need, 

But  such  things  do  not  come  here; 

The  throne  of  the  kingdom  is  held,-. 

By  a  mightier  hand  than  yours, 

And  more  jealous  than  you  of  his  power; 

He  will  have  joy  when  you  he  injures; 

He  will  make  you  his  lieutenant, 

And  set  his  dragon  to  hound  you  on; 
Mocking  for  the  authority  which  you  love, 
When  you  order  nothing  is  done. 

Such  is  your  place  of  punishment. 

And  the  interest  you  do  well  to  pay; 

So  the  principal  remains  intact, 

To  keep  you  working  every  day. 

When  you  labor  with  all  your  effort, 

In  the  thing  you  like  least  to  do, 

If  you  slack  and  show  less  effort, 

Down  a  dragon  will  thrust  you; 

The  things  you  like  the  best, 

Are  the  things  you  least  can  do; 

And  what  you  hate  most,  as  cooking. 

Will  be  the  job  assigned  to  you. 

When  you  do  the  thing  least  you  like, 

And  persist  when  you  would  not, 

Then  is  your  burden  lessened, 

But  you  cannot  stay  at  the  top  of  the  pot. 
You  heaped  yourself  so  gross  a  load, 

That  the  weight  will  hold  you  down; 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


And  though  you  hate  the  place  you  go, 

That  is  where  your  best  service  is  found. 
You  are  set  to  bucking  a  line, 

Where  you  render  service  outside, 

And  though  you  might  try  to  escape, 

Your  enemies’  spears  are  against  your  hide; 
What  you  would  do  you  cannot, 

And  what  you  must  do  you  hate; 

When  you  work  and  settle  a  bit, 

You  are  moved  to  another  estate. 

Death,  a  thing  in  life  you  hated, 

Here  you  love  the  thought, 

But  by  hating  death  in  life, 

The  evils  you  now  hate  you  bought; 

You  enjoyed  hating  your  enemies  in  life, 
Now  it  burns  you  like  fire; 

The  things  you  might  have  loved,  but  hated, 
You  see  shining  like  a  star; 

The  good  things  you  might  have  won 
In  the  world  are  ever  in  sight; 

And  the  evil  to  remind  you  of  your  choice, 
Ceases  never  your  soul  to  bite. 

Thus  to  labor,  and  repay, 

Is  the  work  you  are  set  to  do, 

And  if  your  payments  are  not  made  in  haste, 
You  are  returned  to  begin  anew. 

After  hell  on  hell,  and  age  on  age, 

You  finally  exhaust  your  aim, 

Satan  takes  your  depleted  self, 

And  binds  it  to  his  fame. 

David  Humbert  and  Ruth  Klammer, 
Your  tickets  are  added  together; 

Your  joy  shall  be  full  of  all  you  wish, 

Of  every  clime  and  weather. 

You  may  choose  your  own  reward, 

Of  all  that  heaven  possesses, 

Your  services  are  glorious  and  true; 

You  will  be  held  in  high  regard, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


189 


Increasing  as  your  happiness  progresses, 

As  all  souls  will  be  glad  to  love  and  serve  you. 

When  you  see  a  mansion  where  you  wish  to  live, 

Go  in  and  make  yourself  at  home; 

Your  beauty  and  worth  are  written  on  your  face; 

No  one  in  heaven  but  will  welcome  give, 

And  sorrow  when  your  hour  of  departure  shall  come; 
You  are  credited  with  unlimited  grace. 

Your  presence  at  all  places  will  add  glory, 

And  happiness  to  all  who  are  therein; 

There  will  be  gladness  in  all  faces  at  your  story, 

And  your  message  will  all  honor  commend. 

« 

If  you  wish  to  live  alone, 

Your  mansion  will  be  prepared; 

Your  power  with  the  King  is  as  one, 

And  no  expense  will  be  spared; 

You  may  go  to  the  land  of  eternal  snow. 

And  feel  not  a  touch  of  cold; 

You  may  go  to  the  place  where  heat  is  white, 

And  know  it  not  unless  you  be  told. 

There  are  gorgeous  sleighs  and  tinkling  bells, 

In  the  distance  far  across  space; 

Just  make  your  wish  known  to  light, 

By  the  smile  upon  your  face; 

A  few  minutes  and  you  are  there, 

With  the  blessed  of  every  race; 

Sleighing  and  sailing  through  love, 

At  a  fast,  or  at  a  slow  pace. 

CHAPTER  30. 

David : 

Great  cascades  of  ice  and  snow. 

On  which  we  may  slake  our  thirst, 

For  emotions  of  gliding  and  sailing, 

As  we  forget  the  worldly  things  accursed. 

Let  us  sit  here  and  review  the  struggles  of  our  souls, 
To  reach  heaven  and  see  its  glory; 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


When  we  were  beset  and  discouraged, 

Then  we  heeded  the  infinite  story. 

Our  patience  was  tried  and  we  won, 

But  we  could  not  see  why  we  were  hurt; 

Our  faith  held  out,  and  now  to  satisfy. 

We  shall  all  our  emotions  assort. 

It  is  said  the  meek  are  blessed; 

Let  us  see  why  that  is  so, 

As  we  could  not  see  it  through  the  glass  darkly, 
But  now  with  light  we  shall  know. 

That  woman  waited  with  a  mind  and  faith, 
And  hoped  that  her  meekness  would  pay; 

She  did  not  trust  a  broken  reed, 

As  power  accumulated  on  her  way; 

As  that  power  rose  to  greater  height, 

She  wound  up  her  soul  to  wrin; 

First  thing  she  knew  she  had  overcome, 

By  the  strength  swelling  up  within. 

This  is  heaven,  isn’t  it,  to  sit  and  see 
The  ones  we  loved  come  through? 

Though  it  happened  in  life,  we  did  not  know, 
And  now  to  us  it  is  new. 

There  is  my  friend  I  almost  doubted, 

And  feared  he  would  soon  fail; 

But  I  did  not  flinch,  and  he  won  out, 

And  here  it  is  more  joy  in  our  sail; 

He  was  honest  all  the  while,  and  fought  hard, 

But  he  had  enemies  trying  to  push  him  down; 

They  told  many  lies,  and  sometimes  I  was  confused; 
I  had  to  smile  through  many  a  frown; 

As  his  friends  went  back  on  him  one  by  one, 

He  had  his  back  to  the  wall; 

He  fought  his  fight  all  alone, 

Never  looking  for  a  place  to  fall; 

He  would  not  stop  to  deny  a  lie, 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


191 


And  frequently  honest  men  would  believe, 

Because  they  thought  if  not  true  he  should  deny, 
So  they  added  their  strength  to  deceive. 

He  was  meek  and  never  railed; 

He  was  pure,  for  he  smiled  when  hard  hit; 
Anything  but  a  solid  man  would  have  failed, 

And  his  fault  would  have  growled  and  bit. 

At  school  he  would  rather  endure  reproach, 
Than  mix  up  in  brawl; 

But  he  had  no  fear  if  right  to  others 
Could  be  secured,  even  if  he  did  fall. 

He  worked  hard  for  the  merits, 

And  saddened  when  he  lost; 

I  knew  the  next  time  to  win  I  must  fight, 

I  could  see  him  counting  the  cost. 

When  he  finished  and  set  to  work, 

He  was  always  easy  to  impose  on; 

John  Mark  had  such  a  trusting  nature, 

He  would  see  a  hook  and  he  was  gone. 

He  did  not  sour  then,  and  seek  revenge, 

He  seemed  to  mark  the  other  fellow  down; 

The  next  time  he  had  lost  some  faith, 

And  would  not  any  more  be  a  clown; 

He  treated  them  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
He  covered  the  loss  with  his  soul; 

That  made  them  wince,  they  knew, 

They  had  fastened  to  one  they  could  not  tole. 

Thus  he  began  building  up  opposition. 

Of  those  who  thought  him  vulnerable  to  attack; 
Unconsciously  they  got  to  hating  him, 

And  never  thought  of  the  cause  they  might  lack. 
I  think  those  boys  all  had  their  own  measure, 

And  were  seeking  in  some  way  to  find  his; 

They  got  to  revolving  around  him,  , 

Losing  sight  of  other  centers;  such  life,  is. 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


This  thing  accumulated  with  the  years; 

He  went  into  business,  and  played  fair; 

Depending  on  his  energy  and  service  to  win, 

All  things  for  which  he  might  care; 

The  circle  of  enemies  about  him, 

Stopped  ingress  of  much  of  his  good; 

So  that  he  began  to  be  in  trouble, 

But  fighting  harder  was  his  mood. 

I  knew  him  and  saw  how  he  was  fighting, 

And  quietly  slipped  him  a  little  boot; 

Talk  about  making  a  loyal  friend  quickly; 

He  advertised  me  as  a  trump  for  every  suit. 

His  enemies  tried  to  add  me  to  his  lot, 

Which  I  did  not  join  on  my  part; 

Simply  sitting  still  and  waiting, 

Knowing  sometime  they  would  lose  heart. 

I  spread  the  news  quietly  where  he  needed  help, 
Above  what  I  could  conveniently  give, 

And  shortly  they  were  all  discredited, 

And  he  came  to  the  top,  a  man  fit  to  live. 

Their  circle  broke,  and  each  blamed  the  other, 
For  leading  him  to  believe  a  lie; 

The  truth  is  they  were  all  liars  in  part, 

Becoming  a  whole  when  together  they  tie. 

After  that  he  drew  a  great  dominion; 

His  friends  became  solid  as  stones; 

Being  of  the  best,  he  drew  the  best  to  him, 
Repelling  the  cheaters  and  drones. 

My  little  act  in  helping  him, 

Though  I  expected  no  return, 

Drew  me  in  deeper  and  deeper, 

And  I  got  a  big  reward  I  did  not  earn. 

How  could  I  keep  it?  there  was  no  other, 

For  it  to  light  upon  in  the  way; 

His  enemies  set  the  power  in  motion, 

And  my  reward  came  out  of  their  day. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


193 


Few  understand  the  conditions, 

Against  which  they  seek  to  push  ahead, 

And  by  diverting  their  energies  into  by-ways, 

They  frequently  boost  their  enemy  instead. 

That  is  why  we  should  avoid  enmity, 

Though  we  understood  it  not  at  the  time; 

The  force  that  we  thrust  an  enemy, 

More  likely  reacts  to  leave  us  behind. 

After  he  had  gotten  possession, 

He  began  to  spread  and  grow; 

Growing  then  on  the  efforts  of  subordinates, 

On  whom  he  selects  the  duties  to  throw. 

He  was  cautious  to  not  develop  tpo  fast; 

As  he  goes  out  he  concentrates  at  the  hub, 

And  makes  ready  with  credit  to  cast, 

To  insure  that  his  machine  will  stand  up. 

Are  not  those  beautiful  palaces? 

Built  of  that  cold  honesty  some  call  pride; 

Clear  as  crystal  and  hard  as  flint, 

But  inside  it  is  soft  and  delicate,  and  wide. 

Beautiful  bubbling  fountains, 

Of  the  water  of  the  life  they  spent; 

They  come  here  to  find  it  flowing. 

As  from  the  earth  it  was  sent; 

Wonderful  tapestries  of  duty  done, 

Hang  by  their  windows  and  walls; 

If  they  had  failed  to  keep  full  faith. 

Those  tapestries  would  lack  a  lot  of  gems  and  balls; 
The  alms  they  did  hang  like  jeweled  shades, 

Over  their  windows  and  doors; 

All  set  with  diamonds  and  pearls, 

According  to  their  labors  and  chores. 

They  are  lighted  by  the  truth  they  knew, 

And  practiced  before  they  came; 

It  probably  felt  like  a  duty  then, 

But  they  enjoy  it  now  just  the  same; 

Some  wonderful  rugs  of  service, 


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Made  soft  by  their  sweat  and  worry; 

They  did  not  have  time  for  such  over  there, 

But  here  they  have  less  hurry.  t 

The  robes  they  wear,  and  jewels, 

All  won  in  an  honest  hour; 

They  are  meek  and  full  of  sweetness, 

And  you  would  not  think  they  possessed  such  power. 
Their  chariots  and  things  of  motion, 

See  them  move  with  grace  at  a  touch; 

No  noise  or  evidence  of  action, 

Save  the  speed,  as  they  move  much. 

I  wonder  who  owns  that  mansion? 

Likely  it  is  the  father  of  the  land; 

Perhaps  some  widow  with  children, 

Who  fought  and  saved  her  little  band. 

Let  us  go  in  and  get  acquainted, 

And  hear  their  music  and  fun; 

They  seem  to  have  a  lot  of  friends; 

As  some  leave,  others  continue  to  come. 

His  name  is  William  Helper, 

Who  lived  on  a  little  farm; 

He  was  always  ready  to  do  good, 

Or  shield  some  innocent  from  harm. 

His  neighbors  of  old  are  visiting  now, 

And  just  as  grateful  for  his  good; 

They  loved  him  then  as  they  love  him  now, 

Would  not  have  him  less  if  they  could. 

It  is  the  delight  of  the  ages, 

To  make  friends  and  learn  of  him; 

He  will  stay  here  as  he  loves  to, 

To  receive  and  care  for  them. 

CHAPTER  31 

David: 

Let  us  ride  on  that  thing  like  an  escalator, 

To  the  top  of  that  mountain  peak, 

And  view  all  the  things  about, 

The  eye  may  chance  to  meet; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


195 


The  ice  and  snow  are  so  beautiful; 

So  rugged  and  bleak  and  cold, 

While  we  are  so  warm  and  comfortable, 
The  contrast  makes  us  bold. 

The  snow  and  ice  form  great  grottos, 
Where  we  can  play  and  sing; 

Such  a  wonderful  place  for  an  opera; 

Let’s  put  on  the  Ice  King: 

I 

He  wooed  and  wed  the  Sunshine, 

And  after  he  had  made  her  his  own, 

She  melted  his  heart  and  it  ran  away, 

And  she  fell  heir  to  his  throne; 

The  crown  she  wore  in  sadness, 

Until  her  son  was  born, 

Who  was  so  much  like  his  father, 

For  his  father  she  continued  to  mourn. 
She  dreamed  if  she  Avould  weep  her  tears, 
By  the  side  of  a  flower  in  the  ice, 

They  would  freeze  and  unite  her  lost  love. 
To  her  again  through  sacrifice; 

On  awaking  her  heart  was  so  glad, 

Her  eyes  overflowed  in  a -stream; 

She  hastened  to  a  spot  on  the  ice, 

As  directed  by  her  goddess  of  dream. 

There  was  a  beautiful  snow-white  lily, 
And  she  warmed  it  with  her  tears, 

And  as  it  floated  to  move  away, 

She  grasped  it  and  fled  with  the  years. 

I  will  save  my  son  for  the  Queen  of  Snow, 
And  Blizzard  shall  be  his  name;  — 

Oh,  here  is  my  dear,  dear  husband; 

I  felt  him  before  he  came. 

We  will  have  a  celebration, 

To  honor  your  happy  return. 

And  let  our  son  and  the  Snow  Queen, 
Dance  over  mountain  and  farm. 


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We  will  invite  the  white  bear  and  the  musk  ox. 
To  show  us  their  cumbersome  skill; 

While  the  reindeer,  the  ermine,  and  the  fox, 

Will  show  how  to  evade  those  who  kill; 

We  shall  then  have  a  duet  of  winter, 

Sung  by  the  Breeze  and  the  Brae; 

And  a  solo  by  the  Goddess  of  Storm, 

Whose  fear  stabs  all  in  her  way. 

• 

The  orchestra  of  Summer  sleeping, 

Under  their  bed  of  snow, 

Invite  us  to  remain  for  their  coming, 

But  methinks  if  they  come  we  will  go. 

If  the  song  birds  of  the  north  come  feeding, 

We  will  serve  them  the  sweets  of  the  land, 

As  we  will  not  stay  for  their  breeding, 

Lest  they  think  we  both  understand. 

They  know  I  smile  on  their  success, 

But  they  think  thou  art  not  a  friend; 

As  they  look  at  your  long  white  whiskers, 

They  shiver  rush  prayers  for  me  to  send. 

I  raise  your  coat,  relenting, 

Knowing  they  expect  so  much, 

But  when  they  forget  and  go  chanting, 

I  turn  and  you  give  them  another  touch. 

Some  of  them  follow  me  like  the  evening; 

If  I  go  far  away  I  see  their  haste, 

As  they  pass  the  highest  promontories, 

Trying  to  keep  my  arm  around  their  waist. 

They  love  me,  those  dear  little  creatures, 

And  I  would  not  hurt  them  for  aye, 

But  sometimes  they  get  very  careless; 

When  your  foot  hits  them  they  stay. 

Dear,  do  you  know  the  song  of  the  willow, 

As  he  hums  and  weeps  by  the  stream; 

Long  sighs  of  relief  at  your  going, 

And  happiness  again  in  the  spring? 

The  willow  is  weeping  for  the  mosses, 


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That  cling  so  low  on  the  bank: 

Suppose  if  the  snow  ever  crosses, 

I  can  see  moss  drown  where  it  sank. 

Then  there  is  the  tale  of  the  chip-monk, 

As  he  chips  and  chips  on  a  log; 

Do  you  know  why  so  much  chipping? 

He  boasts  of  beating  winter,  the  little  hog. 

The  humming  birds  hum  in  the  summer, 

But  where  do  they  go  when  you  come? 

They  fear  you;  in  soft  little  whispers, 

They  say  when  you  come  they  stay  home. 

All  the  little  peas  and  beans  run  to  cover, 

When  they  hear  the  first  blast  of  your  horn; 

They  think  you  are  hunting  them, 

And  they  hide  in  the  dark  and  pray  for  morn; 

I  hear  their  prayers  and  lamentation, 

Though  I  pretend  to  turn  my  back, 

Yet  my  heart  reaches  out  to  them  yearning, 

When  they  are  covered  I  watch  their  track. 

Some  of  the  tropical  weeds  get  naughty, 

When  they  hear  about  your  hard  heart; 

They  curse  you  for  all  creation, 

And  threaten  to  impale  you  on  their  dart. 

II 

I  am  the  Snow  Queen, 

I  scatter  my  locks  over  hill  and  dale  and  fen; 

I  clothe  the  earth  with  a  coat  of  mirth, 

When  I  let  my  mantle  fall; 

I  reach  over  the  valleys, 

And  touch  every  blade  of  grass  and  flower  to  be  seen; 
I  cover  the  hill,  the  barn  and  mill; 

Children  are  glad  when  they  hear  me  call. 

I  whisper  to  the  flowers, 

Where  they  sleep  in  their  soft  downy  bed, 

So  sweet  and  cozy,  cheeks  blooming  rosy, 


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And  tell  them  sweet  things  to  dream; 

How  on  the  hair  of  a  maiden, 

They  will  recline,  with  cheeks  so  red, 

Wearing  a  diamond  ring,  as  they  frolic  and  sing, 
And  go  sailing  on  a  crystal  stream. 

I  cuddle  the  dear  kiddies, 

And  put  them  to  sleep  in  each  other’s  arms, 
As  happy  and  free  as  a  bird  in  a  tree, 

As  they  cuddle  the  whole  night  long; 

They  dream  of  the  morning, 

When  they  can  play  on  my  bosom  without  harm; 
Each  girl  and  boy  will  shout  with  joy, 

When  they  see  me,  and  hear  my  song. 

Ill 

My  name  is  Blizzard; 

I  reign,  but  no  water  falls; 

I  sigh,  but  nobody  calls; 

I  rush  in  haste,  and  make  great  wraste, 

And  seek  to  amend  no  deeds; 

What  care  I  for  fields  and  friends? 

I  come  no  more  when  winter  ends, 

So  let  the  fields  bear  the  weeds. 

I  force  the  farmer  to  hide  his  stock, 

And  the  beasts  to  hide  their  young, 

If  they  leave  it  out  when  I  am  about, 

I  will  put  silence  on  the  tongue; 

My  heart  is  not  wise,  nor  of  great  size, 

But  it  is  built  of  things  that  are  strong; 

I  will  shout  that  I  came  to  make  a  name, 

And  I  must  hurry  for  I  cannot  stay  long. 

My  time  is  short,  I  cannot  wait; 

My  heart  is  small,  I  carry  no  hate, 

If  I  hurt  you  it  is  just  a  chance; 

If  you  are  wise,  let  prudence  guide, 

And  find  yourself  a  safe  place  to  hide, 

When  I  hurry  out  to  do  my  dance. 


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199 


IV 

My  name  is  Rain,  I  came  to  wet, 

And  wet  is  the  place  I  leave; 

My  work  is  long,  and  is  done  in  calm, 

So  my  friends  may  promptly  receive; 
When  Spring  comes  on  I  take  great  pride, 
In  the  message  I  have  for  life, 

Without  me  you  can  readily  see, 

Ice  King  might  as  well  have  no  wife. 

Their  babe  could  never  turn  over, 

And  start  on  its  way  to  light, 

Were  it  not  for  me  to  wake,  it  and  see, 

It  is  dressed  and  started  right; 

After  it  starts  I  nurse  it  still, 

Looking  after  all  needs  of  its  face; 

It  could  have  spoon,  cup  and  milk, 

But  I  must  put  it  to  the  place; 

After  it  is  up  and  moving  on, 

I  have  to  keep  it  moving; 

It  never  takes  another  step. 

Unless  I  am  behind  it  shoving. 

V 

I  am  the  wind  and  I  came  to  work, 

But  no  one  left  work  for  me  to  do, 

I  will  get  busy  and  do  my  best, 

Any  work  I  can  find  I’ll  put  through; 

I  move  the  rain  from  place  to  place, 

And  I  often  get  on  a  spree, 

I  blow  the  farmer’s  fences  down, 

And  try  to  wreck  his  apple  tree; 

I  move  everything  before  my  face, 
Whether  or  not  they  would  have  it  so, 
And  take  my  pay  from  day  to  day, 

In  the  distance  I  have  to  go. 

VI 

I  am  Spring,  and  I  came  to  call, 

All  the  vegetables  to  arise; 


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Put  on  your  lively  coat  of  green, 

Get  the  clinkers  out  of  your  eyes; 

When  I  call  it  is  time  to  move; 

Though  you  sometimes  beat  me  out, 

If  Winter  catches  you  out  you  know, 

He  chastises  you  for  being  about; 

Prepare  in  haste,  your  time  is  short, 

As  the  light  waves  are  rolling  in; 

Unless  you  launch  out  at  the  start, 

You  may  get  caught  in  vegetable  sin; 

Drink  your  meed  of  heat  and  air, 

And  don  your  brightest  smile, 

As  Summer  is  knocking  at  the  door, 

And  your  patience  will  be  put  on  trial. 

VII 

I  am  Summer,  I  came  to  fight; 

I  do  my  work  a  dashing; 

I  come  to  you  and  rush  you  through, 

And  mend  and  do  your  washing. 

If  Spring  has  failed  to  get  you  out, 

That  is  no  fault  of  mine; 

I  want  to  hear  a  cheerful  shout, 

And  move  on  to  fulness  fine; 

I  bring  you  a  measure  of  energy, 

And  cram  ii  in  your  throat; 

Hold  it  against  Winter’s  misery, 

And  prepare  your  heavy  coat; 

With  Autumn  I  leave  you, 

As  my  time  is  up, 

And  I  hear  the  call  of  fate; 

Make  ready  with  your  deeds, 

Of  value  or  weeds; 

Autumn  leads  you  through  the  gate. 

VIII 

Come  to  me,  my  dears,  I  am  your  friend, 

And  will  prepare  you  for  your  bed; 

Your  time  is  not  long,  Your  frolic  and  song, 


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201 


Will  be  silent,  and  you  sleep  instead. 

Close  your  eyes  and  seal  your  mind, 
Against  the  assault  of  Winter’s  hate, 

And  heed  not  a  call  from  him; 

If  you  open  your  eye  it’s  too  late; 

Winter  is  striving  to  catch  you, 

And  if  you  listen  to  him  you  are  gone; 

He  keeps  a  record  of  the  bud9, 

He  is  able  to  set  his  death  mark  on. 

Sleep  my  children  of  Springtime, 

That  Summer  brought  to  me, 

And  may  sweet  dreams  hold  you, 

Until  Spring’s  voice  awaken  thee; 

Heed  not  to  Winter’s  calling, 

As  he  saves  a  slap  for  your  face, 

And  seeks  to  mar  your  beauty, 

If  you  stir  from  your  resting  place. 

•  IX 

I  am  Winter,  and  with  my  scythe, 

I  will  slay  all  things  that  grow; 

I  hang  my  mantle  on  their  perch, 

And  sit  on  their  chest  and  crow; 

Brrrr,  I  have  no  patience  with  folks; 

Like  Spring  and  Summer  and  Fall; 

If  I  can  I’ll  cut  their  work  off, 

And  stop  them,  root,  branch,  and  all; 

I’ll  help  them  do  something  worth  while, 
Such  as  cover  the  seas  with  ice; 

I  would  freeze  the  life  out  of  things; 

Kill  off  this  green  stuff,  is  my  advice. 

Queen  Sunshine  come9,  I  had  better  hush, 
She  likes  not  to  hear  me  talk; 

I’ll  try  all  living  things  to  crush, 

As  over  the  land  I  walk. 


X 

Our  next  number  is  a  quartet, 

And  when  you  have  heard  it  through, 


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You  will  want  an  encore,  or  more; 

That  is  the  way  humans  do. 

I  spring  and  soar,  and  fall  and  die, 

But  I  never  die  quite  dead; 

They  call  me  a  Year,  I  don’t  know  why; 

My  night  moves  on,  by  day  is  led. 

Some  count  their  lives  by  the  space  they’re  awake; 
Others,  as  the  rocks,  begin  to  live  when  they  die; 

But  I  measure  mine  when  to  space  I  take, 

And  time  dies  when  I  cease  to  fly; 

My  day  and  my  night  when  finished, 

Added  together,  the  two  make  one; 

On  the  dark  side  of  this  day  I  put  all  to  be  punished; 

The  good  are  rewarded  by  the  light,  for  service  done; 
On  this  day  when  stretched  out  and  hung  up  on  space, 
May  be  read  the  record  of  things,  including  man; 
Together  with  the  preparation  of  his  race, 

To  the  end,  from  the  time  it  began; 

I  am  born  in  the  siege  of  hot  gases; 

As  I  cool  off  I  concentrate  my  weight, 

Begin  adding  and  squaring  my  stresses; 

At  the  point  of  fixation  is  set  a  date. 

From  that  time  on  I  lay  up  treasure, 

For  all  units  which  are  worthy  the  race: 

I  store  water  and  coal  to  a  measure, 

As  well  as  oil  and  iron  in  their  own  place; 

After  a  period  of  gestation, 

A  lot  of  flap  dragons  and  reptiles  come; 

I  keep  them  in  moist  heat,  as  their  reputation, 

Will  not  bear  the  full  light  of  the  sun. 

From  the  first  union  in  this  chase  to  the  goal, 

There  is  an  eye  of  wisdom  to  direct; 

Laying  the  foundation  for  a  man.,  or  a  soul, 

When  “It  is  finished”  is  given,  it  is  correct; 

Up  to  that  time  is  the  noon-tide, 

And  during  the  decline  of  the  day. 

The  Maker  finds  a  place  to  hide, 

-To  observe  His  creatures  make  their  way. 


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203 


They  are  an  ugly  lot  in  some  part; 

Each  one  stakes  off  the  whole  field; 

They  fight,  commencing  each  with  a  dart, 
And  as  they  learn  they  all  get  a  shield. 


XI 


Year: 

You  idlers  should  help  me  sing; 
You  throw  all  the  load  on  a  year; 
.While  I  lead,  you  do  something; 
You  sing  there,  while  I  sing  here. 


I  build  a  place  of  small  domain, 

For  many  things  that  are  small; 

But  great  ambition  to  attain, 

I  erect  a  canopy  tall; 

I  build  a  mansion  for  true  love; 

To  fit  it,  all  beauties  I  combine; 

Love  works  to  recreate  and  set  above, 
Worthies  who  are  fallen  out  of  line; 

I  set  ambition  to  guard  the  gate, 

Writh  a  mind  to  please  the  queen; 

While  love  rules  over  ambition’s  estate, 

The  heart  of  love  is  seldom  seen;  * 

The  arts  are  her  maidens  at  hand, 

To  add  perfection  to  a  feeling  of  rest; 
Though  nothing  is  good  enough  in  the  land, 
She  receives  the  least  without  request; 
Hate  is  a  thing  that  love  never  fears, 
Though  it  rages  along  her  way; 

She  pleads  for  it  and  adds  to  its  years, 

But  hate  never  stops  to  repay. 

To  the  eyes  of  love  I  add  beauty, 

By  making  all  things  thus  to  appear; 

She  sees  the  good  and  sets  it  to  duty, 
Removing  the  stain  of  a  hateful  tear. 

I  have  a  jail- for  those  who  fail. 

And  through  hate  refuse  to  remount; 

After  they  tell  love  a  false  tale, 


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I  confine  them  where  they  recount; 

Thus  I  preserve  in  the  knowledge  of  man, 

The  best  to  the  service  of  the  good; 

Allowing  the  worst  to  dissipate,  if  they  can, 
Relieving  me  of  a  great  big  load. 

XII 

Ice  King  wishes  to  sing  a  solo; 

I  will  tell  you  where  I  serve; 

When  a  man’s  ambition  would  too  far  go, 

I  set  him  in  ice  to  preserve; 

At  the  time  when  he  compasses  the  right, 
That  is  when  I  freeze  him  hard, 

So  that  the  future  can  see  his  flight, 
Admiring  in  their  great  regard; 

I  fix  them  all  as  they  would  pas9, 

The  domain  where  I  hold  forth; 

I  bind  them  so  tight  in  their  mass, 

Their  ambition  never  gives  birth. 

I  take  the  ruler  who  would  rule  too  much, 
And  unrule  hi9  ruling  quality; 

I  seize  his  subjects  who  freeze  at  my  touch, 
And  sever  him  from  authority. 

I  would  freeze  the  music  of  the  sphere, 

If  it  sought  to  violate  my  path; 

I  would  stop  the  rambling  of  the  Year, 

If  he  engaged  me  in  my  wrath; 

I  rule  at  the  bottom  of  the  law, 

The  last  along  my  line; 

I  stop  stragglers  and  fill  them  with  awe, 

And  set  them  in  confine. 

I  rule  in  my  place  to  the  end  of  all  space; 

No  light  dares  to  cross  my  bound; 

What  I  cannot  hold  I  hurl  back  with  my  face; 
No  other  rules  where  I  am  crowned. 

XIII 

Chorus: 

We  are  attributes  of  the  Infinite; 


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We  all  speak  what  we  know; 

All  who  love  us,  we  love  too,  and  invite; 

Hate  us,  and  you  cease  to  grow; 

We  rule  in  time  and  space  and  motion; 

Everything  is  under  our  sway; 

At  the  center  we  have  a  great  King, 

Whose  authority  we  all  obey; 

We  rule  by  right;  we  rule  by  might; 

We  rule  with  a  will  all  our  own; 

We  list,  we  slight,  withdraw  or  fight, 

According  to  duty  well  done; 

We  sail  the  seas  of  perfect  ease; 

We  know  no  law  but  the  will; 

We  cause  disease,  if  so  we  *please; 

To  make  alive,  or  to  kill; 

We  cause  the  waves  to  shake,  and  the  earth  to  quake, 
To  clinch  our  duty  and  hold; 

We  create  a  renown,  or  overthrow  a  crown; 

In  our  modesty,  we  are  bold. 

XIV 

Gravitation  speaks  his  duties  back, 

As  he  stands  on  the  rim  of  effort; 

Strength  King  Energy  sends,  and  use  lack, 

I  return  to  its  place  in  his  court; 

I  hold  the  rambling  nose  of  the  comet  down, 

So  that  it  be  not  lost  in  space; 

I  thrust  the  meteor  to  the  mark  it  has  found, 

Stopping  its  drifts  from  place  to  place; 

I  hold  the  planets  in  their  sphere, 

Bound  each  one  to  his  sun; 

And  I  hold  the  satellites  there, 

Until  their  work  is  done; 

I  hold  the  atom  against  the  light, 

And  give  it  the  weight  it  has; 

Without  me  its  power  would  take  flight; 

And  the  day  of  the  atom  would  pass; 

I  hold  the  living  above  the  dead, 

In  their  terrible  grim  battle  for  life; 


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When  they  are  struggling  to  get  ahead, 

I  hold  the  baser  at  the  bottom  of  strife; 

I  hold  solar  motion  to  its  course, 

Like  millions  of  balls  in  a  pool; 

They  may  rush  and  speed,  and  fill  their  need, 
But  they  cannot  escape  my  rule. 

Out  here  I  stand,  viewing  a  pageant  grand, 

As  the  galaxy  hurls  it  splendor  out; 

I  hear  the  noise,  but  never  lose  my  poise, 

And  send  them  an  echo  for  every  shout. 

In  the  final  day  of  a  sun’s  array, 

With  the  energy  last  to  come  forward, 

I  return  to  that  sun  when  its  work  is  done, 

All  the  planets  it  is  carrying  onward; 

The  energy  stored  in  the  atom  hoard, 

Makes  a  great  conflagration; 

And  the  sun  renews  on  receipt  of  its  dues, 

To  a  larger  preparation. 


I  am  Morning,  you  all  know  me, 

And  this  Evening  is  my  sister; 

We  work  at  the  time  and  place  of  day, 

When  no  soft  skin  will  blister. 

After  hearing  these  big  people  sing, 

I  know  you’ll  love  our  ditty, 

We  bring  you  a  smile  or  anything, 

We  find  will  serve  in  our  pity. 

I  love  to  find  you  up  when  I  come, 

Smiling  and  happy,  waiting  just  for  me; 
When  I  see  your  jolly  face  and  home, 

I  know  what  kind  of  a  day  it  will  be; 

I  send  the  dew,  and  a  cool  breeze  too, 

To  finish  the  last  of  your  snooze; 

I  make  you  feel  cool  and  wonderful, 

And  I  give  you  an  hour  to  muse; 

When  I  come  with  the  dawn  I  urge  you  on, 
To  a  day  of  service  to  your  love; 

With  my  blessing  so  free  you  are  sure  to  be, 


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As  comely  in  your  way  as  a  dove; 

I  am  cupid  to  you  when  there  is  mating  to  do, 
With  Sister  we  make  happiness  fast; 

Love  may  be  blind,  but  we  have  a  mind. 

To  tie  you  to  hold  until  the  last. 

Brother  and  I  control  the  day, 

I  finish  what  he  begins; 

I  plant  little  wishes  in  your  mind, 

So  you  dream  of  what  he  sends; 

I  make  you  to  have  a  longing, 

For  the  maid  or  man  you  choose; 

I  plant  and  Morning  waters  it, 

And  together  we  never  lose/ 

I  choose  a  wise  ambition, 

To  set  you  for  a  goal; 

You  dream  and  see  the  vision, 

I  write  upon  your  soul; 

Morning  makes  you  love  it; 

The  seed  begins  to  grow; 

While  this  seed  is  budding, 

Other  good  things  I  will  sew; 

I  sew  your  life  with  loveliness, 

If  you  obey  the  divine  law; 

And  your  dream  will  bring  happiness, 

When  you  remember  what  you  saw; 

Thus  I  scatter  the  sweetest  blessings, 

Over  all  parts  of  the  land, 

And  when  it  is  watered  and  growing, 

You  love  it  and  let  it  stand; 

In  a  maiden’s  heart  I  sew  flowers; 

In  a  man’s  the  love  of  the  beautiful; 

He  is  drawn  to  her  by  the  bowers, 

And  is  held  by  her  love  of  the  dutiful; 

I  sew  the  love  for  a  dear  baby, 

In  every  good  woman’s  heart; 

When  Morning  has  added  a  blessing, 

Her  wish  will  not  depart. 


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XVI 

Time: 

Time  comes  and  goes,  yet  still  here  it  stays, 
That  is  why  I  see  so  much; 

Nothing  can  happen  without  my  note, 

Or  feeling  my  searching  touch. 

When  energy  first  began  to  move, 

I  had  the  hour  of  my  beginning; 

And  cease  I  cannot  to  make  record, 

Of  deeds,  whether  serving,  or  sinning. 

I  have  been  here  since  the  Creator, 

Crossed  the  finite  border  and  worked, 

And  all  of  his  acts  of  peace  or  war, 

I  have  duly  recorded  and  marked. 

I  am  not  interested  in  the  outcome; 

I  care  not  who  wins  the  fight; 

All  I  do  is  keep  all  the  records  true, 

And  let  them  exert  their  might. 

My  record  reaches  to  all  ages, 

And  covers  all  spaces  too; 

At  all  places  where  action  rages, 

I  have  recording  to  do. 

XVII. 

I  am  space,  and  I  contain  evil, 

A9  well  as  the  place  for  good; 

I  would  as  soon  they  dwell  together; 

Such  is  my  aim  if  they  could; 

I  take  no  interest  in  proceedings, 

Whether  vicious,  moderate,  or  calm; 

I  can  hold  each  to  the  point  of  action; 

If  they  fight  or  love,  I  have  no  qualm. 

XVIII 

I  am  Energy;  of  me  all  things  are  made; 
Without  me  everything  would  cease; 

I  made  every  step  of  every  land  and  trade; 
Through  me  alone  time  and  space  increase; 
The  record  shows  the  universe  grows; 


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209 


I  push  gravitation  back; 

Therefore  you  see,  were  it  not  for  me, 

The  growth  of  all  things  would  lack. 

XIX 

I  am  Magnetism: 

The  String  for  Energy’s  bow; 

I  hold  the  motion  he  brings; 

And  when  our  work  does  fully  show, 

The  product  of  effort  sings; 

When  Energy  works,  I  go  along, 

And  when  he  begins  to  near  his  goal, 

I  fix  it  by  the  pitch  of  my  song; 

We  made  the  iron  and  the  coal; 

We  anchor  the  frost  on  the  window  pane, 

And  the  clouds  from  where  the  raindrops  fall; 
We  produce  the  rainbow  out  of  the  rain, 

And  a  falling  mass  into  a  ball; 

We  work  for  the  love  of  working; 

We  never  labor  without  reward; 

We  collect,  and  our  collecting, 

Will  cease  not  to  hold  while  we  stand  guard. 

XX 

I  am  Order,  and  but  for  my  work, 

No  labor  would  carry  very  far; 

As  danger  to  labors  of  the  right  hand  lurk, 
In  the  destructiveness  of  the  left  hand’s  war; 
I  balance  many  spheres  against  a  sphere, 

And  shape  the  course  of  their  going; 

I  set  the  ratio  of  reproduction, 

And  name  the  season  for  sewing; 

I  fix  the  length  of  the  day  and  the  year; 

I  determine  the  seasons  that  come  and  go; 

I  arrange  the  ropes  that  anchor  the  seas; 

I  set  the  limit  of  the  tides,  high  and  low; 

I  designed  the  shape  and  color  of  the  rose, 
And  the  length  of  its  fragrant  flavor; 

I  arrange  the  direction  effort  goes; 


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I  ordered  the  smile  as  a  favor; 

The  key  to  my  work  is  true  love; 

All  things  that  are  under  her  sway, 

Are  ordered  by  my  will  to  move; 

Thus  heaven  comes  true  in  a  day. 

With  evil  and  rebellion  I  have  no  part; 

When  my  orders  are  not  obeyed, 

I  let  the  disobedient  fail  at  heart; 

They  fall  to  a  place  and  are  stayed; 

I  match  the  lawless  against  lawless, 

And  weigh  them  for  their  full  worth; 

And  let  them  abide,  without  flawless, 

Within  they’re  of  all  order  dearth. 

I  am  book-keeper  of  the  realm; 

I  serve  with  most  infinite  care; 

My  office  is  close  to  the  helm; 

Least  to  greatest  my  orders  bear; 

I  am  of  the  infinite  house; 

In  the  entity  of  God  I  hold  my  faith; 

His  will  permeates  through  me  out; 

I  repeat  to  the  universe  what  He  saith. 

XXI 

Hark!  The  voice  from  across  the  depth; 

Who  speaketh  from  the  pit  of  hell? 

I  am  Satan,  I  raise  my  voice, 

My  greatest  ambition  to  tell: 

I  set  order  in  disorder, 

Where  I  find  it  below  my  strength; 

I  conquer  all  who  stand  alone, 

Without  God’s  helping  hand  at  length; 

I  rule  the  realms  of  all  wilful  perversity; 

Beware  of  having  your  own  selfish  way; 

If  you  separate  yourself  from  the  Infinite  house, 
You  are  mine  when  you  leave  the  light  of  day; 

I  rule  in  the  night  of  all  being; 

Of  all  darkness  I  am  king; 

I  am  the  ruler  of  all  dark  thoughts; 

And  of  every  hidden  thing. 


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211 


Order  can  be  established  only, 

By  overcoming  my  disorder, 
Because  I  am  closest  to  order, 
Furthest  from  the  infinite  border. 
I  hold  the  office  of  death, 

And  all  the  living  owe  me; 

I  bought  their  ancestral  breath, 
And  hold  them  as  mine  to  be. 

My  rule  shall  prevail  over  men, 
Throughout  all  places  and  ages; 

I  will  collect  their  souls  of  them, 
To  adorn  my  fiendish  cages; 

I  will  plant  desire  in  their  blood, 
To  live  my  life  and  ways, 

By  filling  them  with  selfishness; 
Polluting  all  their  days; 

I  will  graft  my  will  on  their  sight, 
And  make  my  kingdom  grow; 
Through  all  of  the  infernal  night, 
My  fiendish  works  I’ll  sew. 


XXII 

I  am  Hate,  I  speak  from  the  damned, 

To  all  the  creation  wide; 

I  take  the  shattered  fruits  of  love, 

And  scourge  it  and  make  it  hide; 

I  strive  to  break  down  her  sanctuary, 

And  think  nothing  of  cursing; 

I  seek  to  destroy  order  everywhere, 

And  stop  her  babe  from  nursing; 

I  plant  distrust  in  the  hearts  of  all  men, 

And  add  jealousy  to  their  sin, 

I  set  order  against  order,  and  class  against  class, 

So  disorders  may  have  a  chance  to  begin; 

I  use  anything  in  my  house  of  plunder; 

Suspicion  is  a  weed  I  sew; 

I  tattle  and  lie,  no  opportunity  gets  by. 

Wherever  I  have  a  chance  to  make  mischief  grow; 
I  live  in  the  region  of  the  damned, 


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To  torment  them  and  make  them  fight; 

I  enjoy  nothing  more  than  war  to  death, 

And  hate  nothing  more  than  doing  right. 

XXIII 

I  am  the  Moon,  and  sit  on  the  gravity, 

Of  the  planet  to  which  I  am  hitched  apart; 

I  fix  the  balance,  and  stop  depravity, 

And  help  at  maintaining  a  tune  in  the  heart, 

By  making  the  walls  of  life’s  cells  thick  enough, 
To  overcome  the  vices  as  we  cross  the  gulf. 

I  hold  my  courses  over  the  tides; 

As  I  raise  a  billow  in  the  air  and  sea; 

I  lift  life’s  burden  some  on  the  land, 

Giving  the  buds  a  small  bit  more  room  to  be; 

I  am  king  over  the  little  things; 

My  authority  does  not  reach  very  far, 

But  the  little  things  would  mar  all  life, 

Were  no  preparation  made  their  way  to  bar. 

An  erring  spirit  that  reaches  too  far, 

In  its  dream  of  all  order  to  escape. 

Gets  caught  in  my  grasp,  and  I  pull  it  in, 

And  hold  it  against  the  day  of  its  rape. 

XXIV 

I  am  Truth;  My  words  are  law; 

Though  my  ways  are  friendly  and  benign; 

My  might  is  above  Satan’s  awe, 

And  I  will  redeem  the  righteous  line; 

I  will  plant  myself  in  the  heart  of  the  race, 

And  grow  out  of  their  lives  like  unto  a  vine; 
Wrestling  with  disorder  for  power  and  place, 

I  will  overcome,  and  rise  to  the  divine; 

My  arms  shall  reach  out  until  the  earth, 

They  fill  full  to  the  overflowing; 

My  strength  shall  cease  not  to  prove  its  worth, 

Nor  shall  my  kingdom  slack  in  growing; 

All  disorder  shall  be  sunken  down, 


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213 


And  become  food  for  the  roots  of  battle; 
The  fruits  of  mirth  shall  fill  the  earth; 

The  voice  of  evil  shall  cease  to  prattle. 

XXV 

Love: 

My  love  reaches  out  as  a  mother’s  arms, 
All  order  to  fill  and  bless; 

I  live  in  hope,  under  the  wings  of  peace; 
All  life  I  kiss  and  caress; 

I  fondle  the  babes  before  they  are  born, 
And  feed  them  at  my  fountain; 

I  dream  their  vision  of  great  estate. 

And  help  them  climb  the  mountain; 

The  impulse  of  life  hastens  to  me  for  care, 
Wonderful  things  of  tiny  motion; 

I  take  it  to  my  bosom  and  nurse  it  there. 
Under  the  wings  of  my  devotion; 

My  abiding  place  is  between  the  rocks. 
Where  life  is  cast  up  for  growing; 

I  find  the  young  and  shape  its  destiny, 

And  shield  it  from  hateful  sewing; 

From  my  breast  all  living  draw  their  life; 
And  build  their  castles  close  to  my  heart; 
All  the  brave  choose  me  to  be  their  wife, 
And  worthies  pay  homage  to  my  part. 

XXVI 

Chorus : 

All  voices  sing  and  praise  our  King, 

Who  rules  by  the  power  of  His  love; 

With  one  accord,  obey  His  word, 

And  maintain  Him  forever  above; 

Let  all  lips  bow,  His  hand  to  kiss; 

We  praise  Him  for  His  beauty; 

Through  the  eternal  realm  of  bliss, 

To  serve  Him  is  our  duty. 

When  Satan  plans  to  mischief  make, 

When  we  meet  at  the  hollow  wake, 


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Hold  fast  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, 

Satan’s  deceit  is  fine; 

Be  not  deceived  by  his  mistake, 

He  has  to  live  in  the  hot  lake; 

The  hollow  wake,  the  hollow  wake, 

The  hollow  wake  decline. 

XXVII 

I  am  Virtue,  I  speak  with  a  tender  voice; 

My  name,  my  fame,  you  see  and  hear,  are  on  every  tongue; 
I  should  never  want  to  drink  the  dregs  by  choice; 

If  I  fall,  that  is  all,  soon  my  glory  is  all  gone; 

My  work  is  to  save  the  essence  that  flows  from  life; 

If  I  am  bold,  it  cannot  hold,  and  I  lose  my  taste; 

If  I  am  selected  by  courage  for  wife; 

His  hold  is  fast,  virtue  will  last,  and  nothing  we  waste. 

It  is  horror  if  I  be  caught  in  the  lap  of  lust; 

I  am  burned,  I  am  spurned,  and  all  my  days  become  dark; 
If  I  fall  for  a  common  lecherous  thrust, 

I  may  tell  I  am  well,  but  virtue  is  fed  to  a  shark; 

If  I  hold  forth  the  victor,  and  fail  to  mate, 

Then  I  am  bought  when  I  am  caught  in  the  spinster  net; 

I  wager  my  dominion  for  a  babe  from  fate; 

Am  I  hot?  I  am  not;  I  labor  while  time  is  yet. 

You  may  say  me  nay  the  way  I  choose  to  go; 

I  have  right,  I  have  might,  I  have  prepared  for  the  day; 

I  stretch  my  hand  to  God,  will  He  not  mercy  show? 

I  have  face,  I  have  grace,  His  message  to  obey. 

Why  should  man  sneer  at  the  good  I  seek  to  do? 

I  am  not  rude;  no,  I  am  good,  I  wish  to  remain; 

If  I  be  neglected  and  no  one  thinks  me  true, 

Shall  I  die,  in  death  lie,  and  all  my  seed  contain? 

Turn  ye  finger  of  scorn,  point  the  other  way! 

I’ll  sit  tight,  I  will  fight,  and  prove  the  stone  is  cast. 

By  those  with  less  honor  than  the  one  they  say  nay; 

I  am  best,  I  will  rest,  on  my  courage  to  the  last. 

XXVIII 

My  name  is  pride,  I  fear  no  fall; 

May  my  head  never  be  held  less  high; 


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215 


I  feel  the  glory  of  my  hour; 

I  pluck  opportunity  when  nigh; 

I  care  not  so  much  for  Virtue; 

She  banks  too  much  on  herself; 

I  bank  on  my  reputation, 

And  I  have  an  eye  for  pelf ; 

I  advertise  my  possessions, 

No  matter  what  be  their  form, 

I  will  find  a  way  to  show  them; 

I  change  a  man  to  a  worm; 

I  can  put  on  my  silk  stockings, 

And  diamonds  on  my  hand,  - 
With  a  few  more  in  my  brooches, 

And  turn  all  heads  in  the  land; 

While  frumps  are  playing  with  duty, 

I  am  angling  with  a  handsome  knee; 

Unlock  the  gate  and  let  me  in, 

I  will  show  how  maidens  should  be. 

•  •••••••• 

Alas,  we  cannot  let  you  in; 

You  did  not  possess  the  price; 

All  your  friends  are  absent  here, 

And  we  don’t  need  your  advice. 

XXIX 

I  am  Life,  I  live  with  the  living; 

When  death  comes  I  make  my  escape; 

I  seek  to  save  the  lost  everywhere, 

And  have  often  been  the  victim  of  rape; 

Wherever  I  find  matter  still  a  living, 

I  seek  to  bring  it  under  order’s  domain; 

I  begin  some  animal  or  plant  moving. 

To  add  as  much  order  as  it  will  contain; 

Keep  them  spreading  and  growing  toward  a  whole; 
Some  living  I  lay  by  for  the  future; 

At  last  it  enters  the  services  of  a  soul; 

Thus  I  save  all  broken  power  drifting, 

Ag  well  as  new  effort  to  control; 


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Always  sorting  and  proving  and  sifting, 

So  my  work  the  Master  will  extol. 

XXX 

Sunshine  is  waking  all  the  buds  from  repose; 

We  will  join  in  a  chorus  farewell, 

And  leave  our  blessing  on  the  lily, 

And  a  kiss  of  good-bye  for  the  rose; 

Another  message  we  will  leave  for  the  bee  to  tell, 

While  as  cupid  he  enjoys  their  hospitality. 

Little  insects  and  breezes  carry  the  message; 

Tell  the  flowers  that  dwell  far -apart, 

How  their  mate  of  another  mansion, 

Is  pining  for  your  love  to  assuage; 

And  return  with  a  message  of  an  aching  heart, 

To  start  in  another  flower  love’s  expansion. 

Dew  drop  will  be  in  the  kindness  of  morning; 

The  breezes  of  evening  from  the  sea; 

Life  makes  happiness  of  days  prolong; 

The  Show  Queen  will  no  more  be  scorning; 

With  scheming  Spring  is  dreaming  of  the  laughter  to  be; 
We  are  all  leaving  with  you  our  blessing  in  song. 

CHAPTER  32 

David: 

We  have  been  a  long  time  enchanting; 

Let  us  go  to  a  place  of  much  calm; 

Such  as  we  find  in  tropics  sublime, 

Where  we  can  rest  under  the  palm. 

v  •  i. 

In  passing,  let  us  view  the  great  concourse, 

How  the  great  and  the  small  are  content; 

If  the  small  had  more  it  would  bring  remorse; 

If  the  great  had  less  they  would  invent. 

Such  palisades  of  mountain  grandeur, 

Rising  tier  on  tier  they  mount  so  high; 

Some  people  dwell  on  the  top-most; 

For  scenic  beauty  they  sigh; 


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217 


Some  have  their  castles  lodged  in  a  crevice, 

Having  gracious  chuting  planes  to  ascend  and  descend, 
Mounted  on  a  curious  transcendental  device, 

Associated  with  other  mysterious  fixtures  without  end. 

Such  people  love  to  have  visitors  come, 

To  marvel  at  their  skill  to  contrive; 

They  go  in  great  numbers  and  hear  them  intone, 

But  not  many  at  an  understanding  arrive. 

Some  build  great  mansions  of  wideness, 

Close  to  the  river  of  life, 

Where  they  plant  trees  and  vines  at  their  side; 

Some  with  visitors  thronged;  another  alone  with  his  wife 
Wide  stretches  of  plains  and  country. 

Teeming  with  life  and  joy; 

The  glories  of  heaven  widen, 

As  recede  the  things  that  annoy; 

Cities  are  full  of  good  meaning. 

As  we  pass  them  as  comb  teeth  by  the  way; 

Gold  is  as  common  as  pavement, 

Provided  by  crossing  a  gas  with  a  ray; 

Diamonds  as  large  as  a  head-light, 

May  be  had  by  enough  bearing  down; 

Pressure  gives  them  good  quality, 

While  hell  adds  the  pow'er,  with  a  frown. 

It  is  not  the  sign  of  good  breeding, 

To  make  it  hard  on  the  damned, 

Except  by  those  who  suffered  great  wrong, 

Into  whom  a  redress  was  crammed. 

;; 

Great  vines  of  clinging  flowers, 

Hang  from  the  tiles  and  walls  and  cliffs, 

Blooming  from  season  to  season, 

Like  billows  along  they  drift. 

Fruits  of  every  variety, 

Cover  hills  and  valleys  and  field, 

All  free  to  all  who  want  them; 

A  double  portion  the  vineyards  yield. 


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Hair  and  features  of  people, 

Are  all  they  could  want  them  to  be; 

They  wear  clothes,  or  not,  as  they  wish  them; 
No  modesty,  or  immodesty,  to  see. 

False  standards  of  the  imagination, 

Were  destroyed  by  the  fire  of  the  Judge; 

People  know  what  they  see  is  real; 

No  one  a  neighbor’s  goods  begrudge. 

Long  rows  of  palms  like  sentinels, 

Stand  guard  before  a  palace  in  view; 

Evidently  the  home  of  some  conqueror. 

Who  brought  to  disorders  their  due; 

Gardens  of  beautiful  flowers, 

All  worked  into  designs  by  nature’s  hand, 
Spelling  the  wishes  of  the  owner, 

Out  to  travelers  passing  through  the  land; 
Wishing  good  will  and  a  blessing; 

Inviting  all  who  will  to  call, 

Assuring  a  welcome  awaits  you; 

Music  and  dancing  in  the  hall. 

CHAPTER  33 

David: 

If  you  would  like  to  play  some  more,  dearie, 
Perhaps  you  would  like  the  Mocking  Bird; 
Wrhat  a  strange  story  he  can  tell; 

Do  you  not  know  of  the  Cadence  of  Flowers? 
The  building  of  a  leaf  by  nature  done  well, 
How  it  arrived  at  a  full  estate; 

That  is  a  play  worth  remembering; 

Or,  how  the  flowers  and  birdies  mate. 

In  the  rocks  we  find  history, 

If  you  wish  to  read  of  their  epitaph; 

There  is  tragedy, — nature  is  full  of  it, 

And  enough  comedy  to  make  you  laugh. 

After  we  have  commenced  at  the  beginning, 
And  learned  of  matter  up  to  date, 

We  can  enjoy  the  present  long  enough; 


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219 


Then  take  a  lease  on  our  future  estate. 

God  will  give  us  His  blessing, 

And  send  us  forth  on  adventurous  search; 

Before  returning  again  we  may  find, 

A  wonderful  new  creation, 

So  old,  that  nature  is  kind. 

Perhaps  there  will  be  new  fields  to  master; 
Old  hells  so  long  burnt  out, 

That  they  may  now  be  in  jeopardy, 

A.nd  need  love  to  turn  them  about. 

At  any  rate,  there  is  plenty  ahead, 

For  every  kind  of  mind  to  engage; 

If  we  go  with  the  Infinite  Cohorts, 

And  follow  not  the  way  of  the  dead; 

But  a  ceaseless  love  against  inanity  wage. 

•  •  •  • 

Oh,  but  my  dream  is  breaking, 

In  the  earth  I  catch  my  view; 

I  see  I  am  still  in  the  hammock; 

Virginia,  how  do  you  do? 

The  toy  we  saw,  Virginia, 

Has  fallen  into  disuse; 

Like  the  people  who  live  for  selfish  ends 
And  turn  their  talent  to  abuse; 

The  Master  will  withdraw  His  wisdom, 

From  those  who  only  use  their  friends, 

And  turn  it  to  the  workers, 

Who  serve  to  advance  the  truth; 

The  vineyard  shall  be  turned  to  those, 

Who  live  to  serve  the  right. 

Whose  will  stands  with  their  Maker, 

In  the  orderly  use  of  might; 

Let  us  lay  our  lives  down  open, 

Before  the  Master’s  face, 

And  anything  therein  He  neglects, 

Let  us  refuse  it  place; 

So  that  we  shall  not  be  found  wanting, 
Associated  with  what  He  rejects. 


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CONCLUSION 

We  all  know  when  planting, 

A  garden,  or  sewing  grain, 

What  to  expect  the  harvest; 

What  quality  and  quantity  of  gain; 

We  know  if  we  sew  poor  ground, 

The  yield  will  be  in  accord; 

We  know  if  we  fail  to  cultivate, 

The  tares  will  press  the  fruit  hard. 

Then  why  should  we  not  know  enough, 
To  cultivate  the  truth  of  our  life? 

A  truthful  balance,  and  rightful  allowance, 
We  should  know  cannot  live  in  strife; 

We  know  that  weeds  will  grow  in  the  garden. 
Where  fruit  is  planted  to  grow; 

We  know  that  lies  develop  in  like  manner, 
Unless  we  cultivate  the  truth  we  sew; 
Therefore  cultivate  the  truth  in  the  heart; 
Never  think  except  as  truth  goes, 

When  a  lie  comes  creeping  in, 

Pluck  with  your  will  before  it  grows. 

The  lie  is  the  worst  tare  of  the  heart; 

It  provides  shade  for  other  weeds; 

By  making  truth  your  gardener, 

You  destroy  the  food  on  which  the  tare  feeds. 

As  we  plant,  we  may  easily  prophesy, 
What  our  harvest  in  life  shall  be; 

If  we  mortgage  our  souls  for  job,  or  trade, 
We  are  fools  then,  to  think  we  are  free; 

If  we  allow  tares  of  lust  and  greed, 

To  grow  where  honor  and  love  should  dwell, 
How  can  we  expect  the  fruits  of  heaven, 

When  we  sew  the  tares  of  hell. 

The  strikes  and  mobs  and  bloodshed, 
Are  the  fruits  of  some  one’s  sewing; 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


221 


The  absent  ballot,  the  seller,  and  prejudice, 

Own  the  ground  where  these  tares  are  growing. 

The  murders,  rum  selling,  and  vice, 

Grow  where  people  are  looking  for  ease; 

They  drift  into  the  rapids  of  want  and  need, 

While  disorder  and  violence  become  a  disease. 

Nature  has  provided  a  way  to  bring  out  the  good, 
By  burning  them  in  the  fire  of  their  own  desire; 

And  all  who  err  to  believe  lies  for  truth, 

Shall  be  smothered  in  their  ignorant  mire. 

Plant  truth  and  cultivate  it  well, 

And  I  will  show  you  what  it  will  grow: 

There  shall  be  love  between  parent  and  child; 

You  seek  your  kind  of  neighbor  to  know; 

The  ignorance  that  my  neighbor’s  daughter, 

And  my  son  can  do  no  wrong, 

Will  give  way  to  enlightenment, 

And  truth  be  planted  there  before  long. 

9 

Thus  planting,  endearing,  and  cultivating, 

In  the  hearts  of  those  we  love  the  truth, 

And  by  following  the  growing  to  harvest, 

We  reach  the  heaven  of  Ruth; 

By  neglect,  and  ignorant  indulgence, 

And  cultivating  prejudice  and  pride, 

We  plant  the  seed,  and  permit  the  greed, 

That  go  where  the  Absuls  abide. 

Thou  fool!  When  you  cover  your  lie, 

You  are  covering  the  seed  for  sin; 

You  are  the  planter  of  the  tares; 

Hoping  foolishly  your  children  will  win. 

If  you  would  have  children  of  success, 

Be  what  you  want  them  to  be; 

How  can  you  expect  them  to  have  faith, 

When  you  hide  what  you  fear  they  may  see? 


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The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


I  know  the  right  is  going  to  win; 

I  know  it  because  it  has  the  power; 

I  also  know  that  every  cowardly  part, 
Shall  perish  before  that  hour. 

Up-root  every  ignoble  thought, 

And  bear  the  torch  of  truth; 

Hold  fast,  forsaking  contrary  things, 
And  you  shall  have  eternal  youth. 


The  Way  to  the  Eternal 


223 


I.  R.  T. 

THE  INFINITE  REIGNS  IN  THE  TERRESTRIAL. 

If  you  wish  to  live  to  the  highest  aim. 

Subscribe  to  the  following  belief, 

And  keep  the  tryst  with  the  Christ; 

In  all  but  your  own  heart  you  may  lack  fame, 

But  your  joy  will  permit  no  grief: 

I  believe  an  all-wise  Creator, 

Created  all  things  that  be; 

I  believe  His  will  rules  my  life  now, 

And  does  altogether  possess  me; 

I  give  my  heart  and  all  I  possess. 

To  be  ruled  by  His  hand, 

And  shall  henceforth  to  Him  bow, 

With  all  my  mind,  as  I  understand. 

With  all  my  reason  I  shall  try  to  right  the  past. 

And  bring  it  under  His  law; 

And  a  perfect  order  labor  to  maintain  to  the  last, 

That  rav  soul  may  be  without  a  flaw. 


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